


A Better Place

by Waywatcher



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Female Marc | Morgan, Morgan and Nathan are dorks, Morgan has no shame, Second Generation Focus, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 259,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25546288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywatcher/pseuds/Waywatcher
Summary: I can remember a world where I was safe, where war was a notion meant for more violent countries, and where the internet gave me unlimited entertainment and knowledge with a few keystrokes. That world is not this one, and I miss it dearly.At least I have Morgan to keep me alive and sane, and I can provide some use to this world with my knowledge of Awakening.
Relationships: Marc | Morgan/Nathan (OC)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Awakening, all rights to the owners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. Welcome to yet another isekai/self-insert style story among the dozens on this site. The story idea here was: "what if the protagonist starts with the second generation?". I suppose you can say that's this story's hook. I don't mean the protagonist starts in the doomed future, just that he deals mostly with the second generation.
> 
> The first several chapters of this story are edited versions of chapters originating in Varied Awakenings where I first tried this idea before deciding to make this its own story. They're very similar to what you see here, just less refined and with continuity errors.
> 
> This story will have multiple perspectives. It will mostly stay confined to Nathan, but it may go to Morgan sometimes. I don't currently plan for a perspective switch to happen mid-chapter, but if it ever becomes necessary I'll indicate it when it happens.

I suppose these types of stories usually start off with how you got to wherever you are, right? Usually "I fell asleep while playing the game and woke up _in_ the game!" or "I got hit by a truck!" which is an anime classic.

I _wish_ I knew how I got here so I could tell you, but I don't. I wasn't playing the game, I haven't picked up the game in a few years at this point. I know it very well from my numerous former playthroughs and constant wiki dives for information for my fanfictions though.

I just don't know how I got here. My memory isn't providing that to me. I don't know if I actually did get sucked into a game or hit by a truck. It's not like I'm an amnesiac, but I can't even remember what _time_ I got sent here. I don't suddenly have a cut in my memory at a definite date, but instead my memory is very blurry around the recent past. Was it Saturday today? Friday? Was it the start of October or the end of September? I don't know. I can remember the first half of September very clearly, and my memory is about as expected for everything before that, but my recent memory is totally shot.

I have a vague idea that I'm in Awakening judging by my possessions. I've suddenly gained an axe, shitty fur clothes, and a random bottle on my hip, probably a vulnerary. That's standard brigand attire for Awakening.

I suppose I could be in one of the GBA games or something, but I haven't played those and I'm counting on this being something I know. There's no real _reason_ for it to be something I know unless I was intentionally brought here, but I'd rather not consider that I might be in some totally unknown pine forest.

Yes, by the way, I said a forest not a field. A rather chilly forest at that. I am _not_ a fan of forests, or really anything to do with the outdoors for that matter, but forests are particularly bad because they have bugs. I really wish I could have started near Southtown if this is Awakening's world. That would have made things a lot simpler.

"So..." I mutter to myself, staring at the canopy and the sun shining through the leaves. "Is this a hallucination?" It's quite possible, though I don't know what could have induced it. I don't take drugs of any sort, I don't drink, I don't have any notable medical conditions... hmm... "Maybe this is this a coma?"

Well if this _is_ a coma, my brain has a very odd way of keeping itself entertained. Are you usually this lucid in a coma? I feel like I'm awake. I don't know when I'm dreaming, but I've always been able to tell when I'm awake. Does being in a coma feel like being awake?

"Well, I'm not going to figure anything out by sitting here I suppose." I tell myself. If this _is_ a coma, then I should start seeing strange things at _some_ point. I push myself off the ground... and instantly notice something wrong. My arm is muscular right now, and it shouldn't be. I'm not a strong person, I despise physical activity for the most part, so why is my body muscled all of a sudden?

Just another strange thing to keep in mind I suppose. I need to find a mirror... _after_ I find civilization. Survival first, figure things out later. Figuring things out doesn't matter if you're dead.

I mean, assuming I _can_ die. If this is a coma, death probably won't be a thing. That's not something I plan on testing though.

Okay, so... the sun is slightly off-peak. That means it's either just before noon, or just after noon. Judging by the pine trees and such around me, and knowing that pine trees are usually found in colder climates, I'm guessing I am in Ferox, so I want to be going south (I'm acting under the assumption that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west here like it does on Earth).

So, I want to be heading south, which is towards Ylisse or Plegia. If I hit Plegia first, then I need to go east. The problem is that I have to wait for the sun to move to know it's it's currently rising or setting, and that means I currently have no way of knowing which direction is which.

Hmm... well sitting around is going to be worse than moving even if I'm moving in the wrong direction. The more I think, the more I'm likely to think about what's going on and give myself a panic attack. So I'm going to assume the sun is currently setting (meaning that way is west) and walk to what I assume is south-east. That way I'm all but guaranteed to hit Ylisse. If I went south and I'm at Ferox's west end, I'd hit Plegia, and I don't want that for obvious reasons.

Time to get walking...

###

It's very quiet. I expected a forest to be teeming with life, even if it's chilly it's not like there's snow on the ground, so I doubt things are in hibernation. I've heard a few birds here and there, but even they are few and far between. I've seen no bugs, no other animals, and no people. The forest just feels empty.

No visible bugs is fine with me, I hate bugs, but I'm not so foolish as to not think it strange. There are birds present, so there has to be _some_ bugs, but by all means I should be seeing bugs then. They're not nearly as cautious by nature as animals are. Then again, I'm no ecosystem expert. Maybe the bottom of the food chain here is fish and not bugs and I'm overthinking this.

I'm pondering this mostly because I've found a stream. Now, if there really is something wrong with the ecosystem here, I don't want to be taking a drink because the water might be the root of the issue. On the other hand... I'm thirsty. I can't _not_ drink. I have a waterskin that has some water, so I can use what's there for now, but if I don't fill it up again I'm just going to be repeating this problem in a few hours time.

I'll use my waterskin for now. If I can afford to wait and look for more information then I should. If I don't come to some conclusion by nightfall, I'll have to chance the stream water. Heck, even if there _is_ something wrong I'll have to chance the stream water. I don't exactly have another source at the moment.

This is not how I imagined my first day in another world going. I didn't imagine I'd be worrying about water quality and a lack of bugs in a forest. I don't know the effects of Risen infecting an area though, it might be different from the game, and there's no saying how far along the plot line is already.

Do Risen even infect areas? The devastated future is a dull colored mess so I assume there's some sort of infection, but I don't know that for sure.

Just keep walking for now. I should find _something_ if I keep following this stream. Settlements are built around streams and rivers after all. I can worry about heading south-east _after_ I find a village and get supplies.

I mean, I know I just said that, but I also just entered a clearing and can see ahead of me, and there's this strange (and very large) temple up ahead. It's blue and white, so I'm guessing it's a temple to Naga. Either that or there's some ocean god I don't know about. Also... the stream travels _through_ the temple, so that might be a good place to go for answers about potential water quality issues.

I've also noticed something else. It's been at least three or four hours. Apparently my new muscled body also gives me a decent bit of endurance. I suppose that's probably a good thing, but I hate having muscles in the first place. I know that sounds like a strange thing to say, but I really do dislike the feeling of muscles. I feel too large, it's annoying to have my biceps rub against my forearms if I ever pull them close to my body, and my skin just feels a bit tighter which is _not_ a comfortable feeling. If anything I feel _more_ vulnerable with this new body than my normal, weaker one.

In the time it's taken me to ponder my dislike for my new body, I've arrived at the entrance to the temple. To be blunt, it's old. The grass around it is overgrown and the stones are covered in dull green moss, but it doesn't seem to be falling apart yet. Old but not ancient, or maybe just really well constructed.

The doors are ajar, so I step right in. My footsteps make barely a sound on the stone floor thanks to my boots which are some sort of thick hide rather than metal or something totally solid. Wind moves through the large corridors of the building making a sound that's like a giant constantly sucking in air. It's surprisingly loud and mildly freaky. There are also paths of water running along either side of the walkway in their own special trenches, and I spy a mark of Naga carved upon some of the columns.

Well, at least I know this is a temple of Naga for sure, and that means this is probably Awakening. I have to wonder what's here now... if anything at all. Let's be honest though: a large empty temple out in the middle of nowhere in a game like Fire Emblem just screams "paralogue!" I could be wrong of course, this world doesn't operate on game logic, but I know Morgan's recruitment chapter takes place in a temple like this.

That's why I'm now walking with my axe in hand. " _Acting under the assumption that this is the place you find Morgan, maybe I've gotten here before the Shepherds did. Then again, I haven't explored the whole temple yet._ "

I have to be on high alert for Risen, because the Risen in Morgan's chapter are probably way stronger than me. I'm an unpromo- you know what, class probably doesn't matter because this isn't a game. I'm one untrained coward with a crappy axe, and I'm not going to be able to fight dozens of possibly elite Risen, or even dozens of basic Risen, or even a single basic Risen.

Basically, I suck.

I peer around a corner and find confirmation of my suspicions. This is the exact room Morgan's paralogue takes place in... I think. In Morgan's paralogue there were raised platforms on the water making a path, but here all the raised segments of the floor are in a square at the center of the body of water.

There's also a small form lying down in the middle of that square with a large cloak covering them. I can't see the pattern on the cloak, but it's dark and has gold trim so I'm guessing that's Morgan.

I don't see Risen still, so that's good, but I doubt I have long before they show up. If I'm remembering the paralogue correctly, Morgan will wake up and only a few minutes later the Risen will be upon them. I need to get to Morgan and get them out quickly, but while I might be able to swim I won't be able to carry them through the water with me, and there's no guarantee I'll be able to wake them up.

These raised portions of the floor aren't supposed to be in a square though. That's not how it was in the game. Maybe they can be manipulated somehow? I start looking around the area for some indication of how I'd move them. I hope it isn't magic, because I don't know how to do magic.

Eventually I find what I'm looking for: a set of large wheels on a floor in a six-by-six grid overlooking the area where Morgan is. Judging by the scuff marks on the floor, I guess these need to be pushed manually. I'm guessing by the size of the room Morgan is and the relative size of the platforms that the middle four platforms are up, so if I raise platforms (1,1), (1,2), (1,3), and (2,3) I should be able to make a bridge over to Morgan's four platforms ((3,3),(3,4),(4,3), and (4,4) respectively).

"Why the hell would a temple have this weird room anyways? I mutter and I grab the handles of one of the massive wheels. "They had too much money on their hands I guess."

I put my new strength to use and start pushing the wheels. This is probably a multi-man job, because doing it on my own is slow and exhausting work. Morgan is asleep through the whole thing, because they don't react at all to the tons of water being displaced as I raise and lower these sections of the floor.

"Last one." I mutter to myself, and plant my sore hands on the wheel. I count the rotations as I slowly push the wheel. "One... two... three... four... five..."

Once I get to forty rotations the section is fully extended up the level of Morgan's, and I rush down to where I was before and make my way across the bridge I've created. I glance at the water around me, noticing how quickly it's settled down. I also notice how these raisable segments actually have space going through the center of them to allow water to pass _under_ them even when raised, and how there are grooves on the walking surface to quickly drain the water after the segment is raised. This was a very well-thought-out mechanism.

Also, as I'm peering over the side, I catch a look at my reflection, and it stops me in my tracks. I kneel on the stone and lean over the side to get a better look.

I have black hair now? My face is also _way_ different. I have a straight jaw, small nose, unpronounced brow ridge, and my skin is light tan compared to my usual pasty paleness. My eyes are also brown now rather than blue now, and my hair is short, black, and mostly straight. I look vaguely asian where I was causasian before.

So my body didn't change, I just got an entirely _new_ body. Well fuck you too to whoever did this to me. (Not because I look asian, to be clear. I just resent being forced into a different body in the first place)

I shake off my anger and focus. Morgan first, rage at the heavens second. I jog over to where they're lying and kneel down next to them. Black-brown hair, so nothing out of the ordinary there. They look remarkably like their in-game portrait, though I can't tell what their gender is. The coat obscures their body, and they're fairly androgynous otherwise. I'll have to ask them when they wake up.

I slip my hands underneath them and lift them into a bridal carry, taking special care to support the neck and head. You can seriously hurt someone if they're unconscious and you carry them wrong. If their head isn't supported, it can pull the neck in unnatural ways because their muscles aren't keeping it in place.

Just as I'm about to leave another thought hits me. Usually you get a Naga's Tear here, right? Where is it? I don't really want to stick around in case Risen are coming though, so... augh, I'll just have to leave it. It's not plot-vital. I'm not going to go searching around this old temple when Risen could show up at any moment.

The last thing I do here is fill up my waterskin. I didn't see anything wrong with the water, so it must just be my paranoia. I don't regret waiting though, it was better to wait and search for information than to be uncritical.

I carry Morgan out of the temple, while still glancing around constantly for signs of Risen. The forest is still eerily quiet, so I make an effort to keep my own noise level down too, but it's hard to manage that while carrying another person.

At this point the sun is dropping dangerously low in the sky and I don't know how to start a fire. I have zero survival skills. Morgan has an elfire tome on them, but I think I'm more likely to blow us up than start a campfire with it if I try and use it. Either that or it'll end up doing nothing.

Mogan doesn't wake up before the sun starts to set and that's very bad news. Like I said, I don't know how to start a fire. I also only have a small amount of food in my pockets which will only make one meal. I'm hungry but Morgan probably needs it more than I do. I'm a presumably healthy adult, and Morgan is probably an underfed kid. I can probably live longer on no food than they can due to muscle and fat stores.

I eye their warm cloak enviously. The furs I'm wearing aren't useless, they're actually quite effective, but Morgan looks very comfy in that cloak.

If I can't make a fire, I need at least to find a place that's out of the wind. I could fell some trees with my axe but I'm not sure how effective that would be in making a wind barrier and honestly the amount of effort that would take likely isn't worth it when we're low on food.

So instead I take the first boulder I can find, chop off a bunch of low-hanging branches in the area to function as a make-shift bed, and set Morgan down on it. It's better than just the ground, and if it rains their back won't get soaked. I do the same for myself afterwards, though I'm cut slightly short by the sun falling and the sky getting too dark to see anything.

This bed of twigs will have to do. My extremely limited knowledge of survival coming from watching survival shows is coming in handy… to an extent. Going to sleep in the cold is not comfortable. The furs only help so much with that. Beside me I can feel Morgan shivering too. That's bad. I can at least manage my own heat to an extent, but being asleep or unconscious Morgan can do no such thing.

" _I'm probably going to regret this if they wake up before me_." I think with a frown. It'll stop them from freezing so I'll do it, but I don't feel comfortable about it. I roll over so I'm right next to Morgan, and carefully slip one of my arms underneath their body, and pull them tightly against my own. The warmest parts of any person's body are their armpits (well actually it's your groin, but that's not being used for obvious reasons), so I take their arms, cross them, and make sure to tuck their hands in their own armpits for warmth. I pull their hood down as far as it will go on their head, and make sure their face is buried in the furs I'm wearing. Now the only thing really at risk is their toes… and there's not much I can do about that unfortunately. I move some of the extra small branches to cover our lower halves and tangle our legs together to maximize heat, but that's about all I can do.

While during the day the temperature was chilly, at night it's easily below freezing. I fall asleep hoping I've done enough to prevent Morgan from losing some digits. Maybe I should never have taken them from that temple.

Also, I'm giving it a fifty percent chance that I'm going to wake up because Morgan stabbed me. If that happens, I also imagine it's female Morgan. Male Morgan is a bumbling adorable ditz who I don't imagine will find anything wrong with this situation, but Female Morgan is a bit more sharp and I don't think she'll put up with this shit.

###

Morgan _does_ wake up before me. I know this because _I_ wake up to them staring at me. They have brown eyes so dark you can barely see their pupils. I'm not good at reading people, and I think they're intentionally keeping their expression neutral, so I have no idea what they're thinking because their expression is totally flat.

They haven't struggled away from me or stabbed me in my sleep though, so that's a plus I guess.

"Morning." I grunt. Wow, my voice is weirdly deep. I didn't realize that before. "If you can make fires, next time we can just do that instead of cuddling. Didn't want you to freeze."

"Oh." Morgan blinks. "You don't know how to make a fire?"

"Nope." I admit. "I'm fully expecting that you're going to be better at this whole 'survival' thing than me."

"Huh. Okay. That's not what I expected you to say."

"What did you expect?"

"'Muhahah! You're mine now girl.'" Morgan says with a comically bad growling voice. "'Take off your coat'... or something like that."

Female Morgan. That means male Robin. Noted. She also didn't stab me, and I'm going to count that as lucky. "I suppose the brigand clothes give off that impression, don't they?"

"Yeah."

"Bad experiences?"

"I mean… maybe? I don't remember."

Amnesia, right. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I'm on your side here."

"And what side do you think that is?"

"Finding your father and the Shepherds." I say simply. I'm not going to give _all_ the details of me knowing how this world works and what will happen, but I'm not going to hide that I know quite a bit.

"Huh…" Morgan eyes me curiously. "Okay then. Thanks…?"

"Nathan." That's not my name, but this feels so far removed from my normal life that I want to separate it with a different name. I'm not putting this being a coma off the table yet. "Hello Morgan."

"Yeah, hi. So uh… as much as I like being warm, I'm also starving, so…?"

"Ah." Either that's a polite way of telling me to let go, or she's actually just hungry and doesn't mind my hug-of-warmth. "Well, I have a bit of jerky…"

"Gimme!"

"But that's _all_ we have." I warn. I release the girl from my grasp and dig out the meat from my pocket. Morgan, who had been reaching out to grab it, pauses. "I'm more than willing to give it to you, you probably need it, but you might want to ration it out."

"What about you?"

"I'll manage until we get to some other food… hopefully." I say. Morgan cautiously accepts the jerky, though she doesn't take a bite out of it quite yet. "I've been following the river, hoping to find a village to purchase more food. Once that's done, I planned to go south-east towards Ylisse."

"Where can I find my father?"

"Ylisse most likely, if he's not out at war." I offer. "My goal is much the same as yours. I'm trying to find the Shepherds."

"Huh." Morgan blinks. "What are the odds of that?"

"Extremely unlikely." I admit. "Anyways… are you going to eat that jerky?"

Morgan stares long and hard at the jerky in her hand. She then breaks it in half, and hands half to me. "I have another question."

I snag the jerky and bite down. It's bad, but it's food. "Sure."

"Did you find me out here in the forest?"

"No actually, I found you in a temple surrounded by a pool of water." I say truthfully. "Risen were incoming though, so I carried you out." That's only a partial truth now that I think of it. I have no way to know if Risen were going to show up soon or not. I haven't come across any yet, and because this is ostensibly a real world there's no guarantee Risen will show up at a convenient timing like in the paralogue… or at all.

"I see…" Morgan says though a mouthful of food. She swallows. "Okay, so, you help me and I help you? Is that the deal?"

"Honestly it will be more you helping me than the other way around." I admit sheepishly. "Like I said, my survival skills are nonexistent. I really am hoping you know more about surviving in the wild than I do."

"So that was your plan! Find an amnesiac girl, save her life to make her indebted to you so she'll keep you alive!" Morgan says while pointing a finger at me. "Clever…"

"That was more or less the plan." I say.I _was_ hoping she'd wake up earlier last night so she could help me not die, so I suppose that was basically my plan. "You have no proof I'm telling the truth though. For all you know I'm lying, and you woke up the way you did because I'm a creepy molester."

"Maybe." Morgan shrugs. "But, I mean, come on. If you were a creep, you'd never admit it. Also, I was joking you know?"

"But I wasn't." I reply, and she shrugs indifferently. Is she really okay with this? I was expecting more protests about lugging my useless ass around, even if she does think I saved her.

"Right… well, I think we can manage." Morgan muses. "I know a thing or two."

"Can you start a fire?"

"Yes."

"Thank Naga, we're saved!" I say dramatically. "But seriously, that's good, because I've never done so without a flint and steel." Well, a lighter actually, but I'm fairly sure those don't exist here.

###

Morgan knows how to hunt. That is so incredibly useful I don't know how to express it. We've come across no other villages in two days of travel, so it's been through Morgan hunting with her elfire tome that we've been getting food. In her words: "it's not an efficient use of this tome, but it's all we can do at the moment."

Most of her kills have been birds. She blows them out of the sky with a controlled explosion to stun them, and then finishes them off with her sword. The birds are small, not even a full meal, but it keeps us alive at the very least. Hungry, but alive.

We're still following the river currently. It's going straight east, which isn't terrible, but it means we aren't getting any further south yet. We just need to find _one_ village for directions and supplies so we can start making some real progress, but so far no luck.

I feel bad that I haven't been nearly as useful as Morgan. I smash off branches to use for our nightly fires with my axe, and sometimes I carry Morgan around because she doesn't have my endurance, but other than that I'm doing very little.

Conversation between us is limited. Morgan has little to offer on account of her amnesia, and I don't know a whole lot about this world beyond broad plot and character details. We play various little games like eye-spy or that game where you have to say a word that starts with the last letter of the other person's word, but a lot of time is also spent in silent walking.

When we set up camp though, there's one other game we can play. We clear out a path of dirt, draw a board, and play chess. We use different-sized sticks for the different pieces. Morgan always wins, but it's more entertaining than just sitting around.

"Nathan."

"Yeah?"

"How old are you?"

I purse my lips. I have no idea how old this body is so I'll just use my actual age. "Twenty-one."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I thought you were older than that. You _look_ older."

"Well, how old are you then?"

"I think I'm… eighteen?" Morgan says after a moment of consideration. "That feels right. I'm going to say I'm eighteen."

I blink in surprise. "Really?"

"What? Why do you sound so surprised?"

"You look younger." I say bluntly. It's true, she looks like she's just barely started puberty. Also, using my knowledge of the game, I know Morgan is likely the younger sibling of some other of the future children which means the future children are older than I thought they were. I always expected them to be about sixteen, but assuming Morgan is about two years younger than most of them then they're probably about twenty.

Their sprite-art from the game really doesn't do them justice I suppose. Roughly how old are the first generation then? I assume they're a few years over the future children, so about twenty-four to twenty-six?

Alternatively, this world might just be totally different from what I'm expecting. Maybe the future children are almost exactly the same age as their parents, or Morgan's older sibling was born earlier than most of the other children so most of the future children are actually Morgan's age.

You know what, I'm putting too much thought into this. It really doesn't matter. I'm curious though. Miscellaneous knowledge like this interests me as a fan of the game. Also… that's just a lot older than I assumed. I always thought Morgan was _twelve_ , not eighteen.

"I knooow…" Morgan sighs. "Why couldn't people all start to look older at the same age? Why does it have to be different for everyone? Why couldn't I be an early bloomer? Instead I'm super late I guess."

"Look on the bright side. You look like a kid, so you can get away with pranks for longer than most." I offer. Also, I don't think you're a late bloomer Morgan. If you're eighteen, you've probably finished growing already. Sorry.

"Oh…" The girl's eyes light up. "Oh man, you're totally right!"

"Just choose your targets carefully. Anyone who actually knows you won't be fooled." I warn.

"Ooh, okay… I should keep my age a secret from now on…" Morgan murmurs.

" _Honestly, I was going to suggest that anyways._ " I think to myself. " _An adult that looks like a child is bound to grab the attention of some creep if it becomes public knowledge. Maybe let's not bring that up though, no sense in bringing down the mood._ _Besides, considering her skills, I bet Morgan could make short work of unwanted attention._ "

"Hey, Nathan?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know who I am?" She asks.

"You're Morgan."

"Yeah, but you seemed to recognize me even before I told you who I was or that I had amnesia. You knew I was looking for my father before I mentioned it too."

"Well…" How much do I say here? I can't reveal too much or I'll look crazy. "I have some outside knowledge. I can tell you about the broad strokes of what happens in the world, and maybe some specific people, but that's it. I don't know your past except that you've hopped dimensions to be here."

"Oh." She blinks.

"Yeah, it's complicated." I shrug. "Really, this whole world is a bit complicated."

"Huh… okay then." Morgan says. Her brow is set in a serious expression. "I have a lot to learn I suppose."

"So do I…" I murmur.

###

"Oh thank God, a village." I sigh when I see the clearing ahead of us with some buildings visible. "It's about time."

"I'm staaaarved." Morgan moans. "We gotta buy a _ton_ of food."

"Speaking of buying… do you have any money?" I cough. "I have some copper, but I'm not familiar with _money_."

"What?"

"Yeah, uh, I'm not used to using gold and silver and copper. How much is thirteen copper?"

"You could maybe buy some cheap ale with that, or a single night in a crappy inn."

"Oh." So basically I have nothing. Great.

"Let's see…" Morgan mumbles as she searches through her coat. She pulls out a small purse. "I have this." She opens it. "Oh. Wow. That's… one, two, five, ten, twenty… a _lot_ of gold."

"Ah." So she's rich (and I'm dirt poor). That makes enough sense I suppose. Robin probably had a lot of money in the future, but there was no real use for it in an apocalyptic future, so Morgan just hung onto a lot of it. At least that's what I assume. "Well that's good. That's food and beds, and hopefully some other supplies."

"You speak like I'm paying for you." Morgan scoffs. I don't realize she's joking immediately, so an expression of shock born from fear of abandonment crosses my face and she rushes to correct things. "I'm joking! I'm joking! Uh, sorry."

"Oh, right." I say, making sure to keep my voice even. I'm supposed to be an adult here, but I have no experience in keeping my calm. I'm only nominally in charge because I'm older than Morgan and because I actually have some idea of where we're going. By all means, Morgan _should_ be the one in charge here, because she's certainly smarter and more competent than me, and I have no doubt she'll take charge at some point when I'm out of my depth, but for now I have to hope me ostensibly being in charge is enough to justify her not abandoning me. "Let's go."

"Right!"

The village is very small. It's not a farming village, there are no fields (maybe it's too cold up here year-round to do any farming) but instead seems to focus on furs and fish. People stop and stare at us ( _glare_ at me actually) as we pass by we search for a tavern and a general store or a market. We stand out like a sore thumb, partially due to Morgan's cloak, but also because all the villagers have dark skin and me and Morgan don't.

"Hey, you." Some burly man, the village blacksmith by the look of his calloused fingers and apron, stops us in the streets. He's glaring right at _me_. Morgan glances around us, and her eyes narrow slightly. I can see other people moving from the corner of my eye, so I'm guessing we've been surrounded. What a _warm_ welcome. "You got a lot o' nerve comin' in here and thinkin' we would jus' ignore you."

I'm totally lost. "I do? I think you have me mistaken for someone else."

"We'll see 'bout that." He looks down at Morgan. "Kid, what's your name?"

"Morgan." The tactician says. She draws herself up to her full height (which isn't saying much). "What's going on here?"

"I'm askin' _you_ that." The man says softly. He's using the voice you'd expect a police officer to use with a scared kid. Firm, but gentle. Why? Why was he glaring at _me_ then? The man reaches out and puts a hand on Morgan's shoulder, and not-so-subtly shifts her away from my side. Morgan's mouth purses in thought. "Morgan, was it? Tell me truthfully, are you alright?"

"I mean, I'm hungry, and I've been sleeping on branches for the last few nights." Morgan says truthfully. "I also don't remember anything beyond the last two days… so… no, not really."

"I see." The man says slowly. The people around us not-so-subtly start to draw weapons. The blacksmith then points to me. "And him? What has he done to you?"

" _That is a_ _very_ _leading question_." I think. " _What's going on here? Should I be drawing my axe?_ "

"Kept me from getting killed, carried me around when I was exhausted, kept me company, stopped me from freaking out about the fact I'm an amnesiac who woke up in the middle of nowhere…" Morgan lists off slowly. It's only at this point I notice her hand has slipped into her cloak, and a moment later she pulls out her elfire tome. "So." She says in an icy, stern tone. "I'm going to have to ask you to back off and put away your weapons, or I'm going to start slinging fire."

" _Oh, is this a fight?_ " I think, and reach for my axe. I hadn't even noticed how everyone around us has some sort of weapon. Apparently everyone in the village has an axe. " _Isn't this just a village? What's going on here?_ "

Morgan and the blacksmith seem to be having a staring contest of some sort. The man is squinting in suspicion while Morgan is giving him a firm, unwavering look.

"You're sure yer fine?" The man grunts.

"Yes."

"We've got a bunch o' people here. We can take him."

"I know. That's unnecessary."

" _Take him?_ " I blink. " _Take me? Oh, I'm being threatened. Uh…_ "

"He ain't a slaver? You're fine?"

"Again, yes." Morgan says firmly. "He's my _friend_ , and we're much closer in age than we might look. I assure you, whatever you're thinking, it's not true."

The blacksmith stares for a moment longer, than steps back and says "Alright boys, false alarm. I'll take it from here."

The men around us share disbelieving looks, but listen to the blacksmith. They pull back their respective weapons and reluctantly go back to wherever they came from. I watch Morgan pocket her elfire tome and let go of my axe.

"Sorry for the rude greeting." The blacksmith says. He extends a hand towards me, which I cautiously shake. The last few lines between him and Morgan finally keyed me into what was going on. He thought I was a kidnapper, huh? I suppose that makes sense. That reminds me of what I was thinking before about Morgan hiding her age. I guess _I_ look like the creep, given my attire and what looks like a large age difference. "The villages around here have had trouble with kidnappings lately. Bandits, have been either sneaking in or raiding villages and taking the women. So when I saw a man who looks like a brigand walkin' around with a young girl… well you can understand my alarm."

"So you surround us and ask leading questions." Morgan says evenly. "I'm all for taking action, don't get me wrong, but asking leading questions gets biased answers, and biased answers aren't the truth."

Thank you Morgan for being smart and logical, and also willing to stand up for the random weirdo you've known for less than a week.

The blacksmith seems surprised at Morgan talking back to him. "Well, I can't expect someone who might have been kidnapped to be of the right mind, yeah? They could easily be pressured into _not_ saying anything, and probably won't be using their right mind anyways. I can't trust them to speak up on their own. They need prompting."

Morgan purses her lips. "Alright, fine. I don't totally agree, but that's a fair enough point."

"Didn't ask for you to agree." The blacksmith shrugs. I can practically hear him complaining to himself that this little girl is trying to dictate morality to him, though he doesn't comment more on it. "So, what brings you two here then?"

I step in here. "Food, shelter, supplies, directions. We've been out in the wild for a few days with no supplies, and we're trying to head for Ylisse. Erm… where exactly are we?"

"You're a hell of a way off, that's where you are." The man grunts. "You're at the west end of Ferox. Like, the _total_ west end. Gonna take you at least a month to get where you want to go."

"Ah." I grimace. "Okay…"

"I don't have no map I can give you, but supplies and whatnot we can certainly give if you got the coin for it." The man says. "An', by the look of it, maybe you two could use a proper backpack too? Only so much you can carry in that little coat o' yours."

"You'd be surprised…" Morgan mutters under her breath. "But yeah, we could use a pack or two. Also, a place to stay for the night would be great. Oh, and bedrolls would be fantastic. We could use those."

"If yer willing to wait for a few days, we can certainly provide." The man says. "For the night though, the tavern's got rooms for ya, and it's got some good food. They'll appreciate the extra business too. Ain't often we get travellers out here."

"Well, they'll get quite a bit of business tonight. We haven't eaten properly in days." I say. "Erm… if you don't mind pointing us in the right direction?"

A few minutes later the two of us step into the tavern. It's small and basic, with only eight tables that could probably fit the whole village if needed. This seems to be a small place. Seeing as it's not _quite_ dinner time yet we've beat the rush, and we order a full meal for each of us and dig in as soon as the food is on the table. The meal is mostly meat and fish, but there are a few vegetables and some bread. Rather than booze, we both get water to drink.

We finish just as the rest of the town seems to be pouring in for their nightly round of drinks. Some shoot me hard glances, still seeing me as suspicious, so while Morgan takes a moment in the water closet I pay for a room, and we make our way up there. The girl pauses upon seeing the room, and a moment later I realize the problem.

"Nathan…"

"Yeah, I just realized. My bad. I'm used to hote- er, _tavern_ rooms having more than one bed." I sigh. "My siblings and I always slept in the same room when we went anywhere. I forgot solo rooms existed. Sorry. I'll go back down and-"

"What?" Morgan blinks. "I was just going to ask if you wanted the wall side or the inside."

Oh, she doesn't mind. Didn't expect that. I won't complain, I'd hate sleeping alone at the moment to be honest, I've been steadily on the verge of a panic attack for the last several days and having Morgan has really helped with that. I expected her to take issue though.

"You have a 'I'm surprised' look on your face." Morgan notes. "Were you expecting me to complain?"

"Yes." I say bluntly. "Very much so, yes."

She raises an eyebrow. "Is it because I'm a girl? You were expecting me to be all bashful?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second. I was expecting you to complain about the lack of space and make a jab at my expense."

Morgan snorts. "I mean… I considered it, but that would be mean. You seem… and I don't want to sound mean… kinda emotionally fragile? And maybe not too socially aware? So I could poke fun at you, but at this point that would just be rude."

"Oh." I cringe.

"No, no, uh…" Morgan wrings her hands in annoyance. She's trying to find the words to explain this. "I don't mean that as an insult or anything! I'm kinda freaking out too you know? And you've been putting on a brave front for my sake… not very well mind you, but you've been trying. I could make a joke, but it would only make _me_ feel better, and honestly… I don't really want to sleep alone either. I could have woken up in that temple alone with Risen around me, I don't know where my father is, and I don't know _anyone_ else in the world right now because of my amnesia. You are literally the only person I know I can fully trust at the moment."

That's probably supposed to be reassuring, but it's not. The only person Morgan has is _me_ , and I'm totally incompetant and have no real idea what I'm doing.

Still though, I suppose I would prefer to have a well-meaning companion, even if they were incompetant, over no one at all. I'm also not going to argue with not sleeping by myself tonight.

"You can take the wall, I'm a still sleeper. I shouldn't fall off." I offer.

"Oh good, because I tend to roll in my sleep." Morgan mutters.

We shrug off our extra things and climb into the bed. It reminds me of sleeping next to my parents when I was young… except I suppose I'm the larger one here, and we're basically equals and there's not a parental relationship, and-

Okay, look, this metaphor is falling apart really quickly. I'm just going to move on.

I was expecting all this tension and awkwardness about sharing a bed, but Morgan really doesn't care. I suppose it's all in my head. _I'm_ more awkward about this than she is. I have all these expectations that other people are going to be super prudish and easily offended and all that, so it's honestly throwing me off that Morgan just _isn't_ any of those things.

"Nathan, you look like you're overthinking something." Morgan notes.

"I probably am." I admit.

"Stop." She suggests cheekily.

You know what? That sounds like a good idea. I'm worrying about things that don't matter. I should just sleep.

So I do. I flop back in the bed (listening to Morgan shift around beside me and murmur under her breath as she runs through plans for tomorrow). Sometimes she asks my opinion in a whisper, and I respond in a half-asleep mumble. I don't say much of use, and I don't think Morgan expects me to. I'm just a soundboard to bounce ideas off for as long as I'm awake.

I'm only awake for so long though. I fall asleep to Morgan muttering ideas under her breath.

###

"So is that everything?" I ask.

"Yep." Morgan nods. "Unless they have some lying around though, we're going to be waiting for them to _make_ this stuff, so we'll be here for a few days in the meantime."

"Right." I say. "Uh… what do we do then?"

"I dunno honestly. Maybe we should hunt and stock up on food?" Morgan shrugs. "We don't have to considering how much money I have, but it's never bad to save money."

"Why not." I shrug. "It's not like we have anything else to do. I'm not going to be much help though."

"Sure you are. You're company." Morgan chirps. "Hunting on my own would be boring. I'm not going to wander around the forest for hours on my own!"

If you say so Morgan. I'm not going to argue with something to do. I don't want to sit in the tavern room dwelling on my situation or I'm going to give myself a panic attack. It's only because of Morgan I haven't broken down already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan as a character is very much a parody of my own mental image. He's me, but exaggerated (mostly). In some places he'll be better, in some places he'll be worse. Standard self-insert stuff. I don't know if that's going to make him overall easier to write because I can just ask "what would I probably do?" or if that'll make him harder to write because he'll possibly be not interesting or annoying. Also, when it comes to character development he's going to be a pain to figure out because he's partially based off me, and generally it's hard to look at yourself and decide how you would develop.
> 
> Morgan is an easy character to write because of her absolute confidence in herself. I never expected her to be so easy when I wrote the original first chapter, but everything about her clicked into place without much effort. However both she and Nathan take a few chapters to fully come into their own, mostly as they become more comfortable with each other. There was a debate I had when making this story as to whether Morgan was a deuteragonist or a proper second main character, and I eventually settled on deuteragonist. Still, she's important enough to warrant her own POV chapters down the road.
> 
> The dynamic of having a twenty-something looking guy escorting around a girl who looks like a twelve-year-old is not what I expected to get into when I originally wrote this first chapter, but it arose very naturally from how I envision both characters… and the fact that a lot of my stories seem to tackle age dynamics and physical appearance as subjects for some reason. I have no idea why that's such a common theme, and I seem to include it without realizing it fairly often.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of small things happening in this chapter. Morgan and Nathan still aren't showing their best side as characters. They start to shine in the next chapter.

"Uh…"

"Yeah..." Morgan whispers in equal disbelief. "What are the odds?

"Too high apparently."

"We can't just back out now that we know they're here, right?"

"I suppose." I mumble. My grip tenses on my axe, and I take a deep breath. "What do we do? They're slavers. _Slavers_. They probably know how to fight to some extent."

"I'm not saying we rush in, I'm just that we should do _something_." Morgan says. "Don't you agree?"

"Uhh..." I grimace reluctantly. Morgan looks slightly disappointed, and I in turn feel a bit offended. "Can you blame me? We're two against two dozen. We can't safely take them all."

"We don't have to." Morgan replies. "We just need to free the slaves."

"And leave the slavers to go about their business."

"Like you said, we can't safely do anything about that." Morgan admits. "But we should do what we can."

"Right, right. Okay, fine. You're the tactician, what do we do?" I ask. My eyes are glued on the ruins where the slavers are based. We're hiding in bushes, but I can't help but feel if anyone walked by we'd be noticed right now.

"First we have to just stay out of sight and observe." Morgan whispers. "Note guard patterns, avenues of attack, maybe wait for them to go out so we can set up a trap or free some captives."

"If you say so." I say tensely. "So, how are we going to hide exactly? Do we put leaves over ourselves or something?

"Of course not. We're going to climb a tree."

"Oh, of _course_ , why didn't I think of that?" I laugh nervously.

"Because _I'm_ the tactician here." Morgan quips in return. "Come on. They're all busy eating. This is the perfect time to find a place to hide out."

As it turns out, the plan _isn't_ to find the tallest tree around. That would be too obvious. Morgan says we need a tall tree, but it's more important that the boughs are thick so it's hard to see though. Granted, it will be hard for us to see too, but it's more important that we remain unseen than that we can see everything. We're no use if we're dead.

It's not too hard. We find a good tree and clamber up to the middle branches. It's cramped and uncomfortable, but... it's a _tree_ , what was I expecting? It fits our needs, and that'll have to be good enough.

Sitting in a tree for hours on end is mind-numbing. This is the first proper taste of anything close to military life I've gotten, and it _sucks ass_. I'm constantly worried because we're only several dozen meters away from the border of the enemy encampment, and also constantly bored because I'm sitting in a goddamn _tree_ for hours on end, unable to do anything but watch, listen, and sometimes whisper to Morgan.

I really have no idea what I'm getting into. I regret this already. Freeing some slaves would be great, but I'm going to be hard-pressed to say I felt in any way satisfied with this.

Huh, that sounds really petty. I mean, it _is_ really petty, but am I wrong to feel that way? Throwing my life into danger is never going to _feel_ worthwhile even if, from a logical standpoint, I know it is. I'm doing the right thing, and I hate it, but I'm doing it anyways because of logic.

You know what, this is a bad time to get philosophical. It's hard not to let my thoughts wander though. I'm in a _tree_. I can't state that enough. I'm sitting in a _tree_ , and I can't possibly be expected to focus for multiple hours on end. Or can I? I don't know. How do soldiers deal with this shit?

"Stop fidgeting Nathan."

"Sorry."

"Just calm down, it's only been an hour, you're going to emotionally exhaust yourself."

"Only an hour?"

"Yep."

"Oh God..."

###

I've never been one for meditation, but it ends up being the only thing I can really do to pass the time. Morgan is doing most of the monitoring. She actually knows what to look for, and has a far better memory than me. My observations over the last hour have been banal and rather useless. Morgan has been polite in her responses, but I got the feeling I wasn't helpful so I just stopped mentioning things.

What was I talking about? Right, meditation.

I don't really get meditation for the most part. I understand it conceptually, but it don't know how much of it you need to do for it to start having an effect. It's probably one of those things you need to do frequently to see results I imagine. However, at the moment, it's the only thing I can do, so I do.

Well, I _try_ , and then I start getting distracted by story ideas. I'm a writer (fanfiction writer, not a proper writer… yet) so I'm always eager to find a new idea for a story. Story ideas occupied most of my thoughts whenever I wasn't doing anything in particular, and now ends up being no exception. Some of those ideas are old ideas, one's that will never see the light of day, but that I still hold dear. Some are newer, that I like a lot, but I've never managed to write in a way that satisfied me. Some ideas are new as of this day, and mostly centered around stealth narratives, or Morgan.

You know what, I should probably get rid of the ideas involving Morgan. It would be rude to imagine random things about someone who actually exists… assuming this isn't a coma. I'm still not discounting that idea.

My thoughts are just a mess now. Ugh. It's hard to _not_ think of something. I'm still bored too, despite my imagination trying to supply a distraction. I really should learn to meditate. It's supposedly good for you, and you can supposedly do it anywhere.

I hear Morgan scribble something in her notes, so I glance up at her. The girl's eyes are fixed on something in the slavers' camp, so I try to figure out what she's looking at. I've barely been paying-

"Noire." I whisper suddenly. The slaves have been brought out into somewhere we can see for something. I think it's dinner time for them. Why on Earth is Noire here though? Her paralogue is on the other side of the country. "It's Noire. Wow. Okay…"

"Noire? Who's that?"

"Uh… she's like you. Dimension hopper. Without amnesia though."

"Oh." Morgan blinks. "Uh, cool. I meant _which_ _one_ though."

"Oops, uh..." I mumble, and squint. "Black hair, pale skin, tattered green clothes, young adult, female, busty."

"Ah, got it. I see her." Morgan nods. "I take it we should free her first?"

"Probably. She can use a bow, and is at least a somewhat experienced fighter." I whisper. " _Of course, that's assuming my knowledge from the game is somewhat accurate to this reality._ "

"We don't have a bow."

"Yeah." I grimace. "Hopefully we can find one then. Unless you know how to make a bow?"

"Nope. Not like I could at the moment anyways."

"Right, so… find one. Or maybe Noire can make one herself if we can free her. Heck, we could probably just give her a sword and she'll still be more useful than any other given slave because she has actual combat experience."

I don't actually know that, but Noire is the only one there that I can _almost_ guarantee knows how to fight. The others, mostly young girls, I don't imagine have combat experience.

Wow, that's sexist of me. I just realized that. This world is based on medieval times, so I _imagine_ it's true (and I am going to keep going on those assumptions for now), but I should probably check the norms of this world when I get the chance. Maybe this world is totally equal.

I doubt that, pegasus knights and fighters were gender-locked in the game, so by that measure the sexes shouldn't be equal here, but a person can hope.

"I can see why the slavers would take her. She's a looker." Morgan notes. "Hmm… uh… hey…"

"What?"

"So, you have a bunch of knowledge about the world and stuff, right?"

"Right…?"

"So, you have some sort of scrying ability or ability to tell the past, right?"

"Erm… not exactly. It's complicated."

"It doesn't matter what exactly it is." Morgan says. She sounds a bit rushed, _worried_. "What do you know about Noire's enslavement? Or just the enslavement of these girls in general?"

"Not much. I just knew Noire would be found around slavers."

"Okay… okay…" Morgan murmurs, taking a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" I ask quietly.

"Nothing."

"Clearly something is. Spill."

"I just- How fast do we need to be?" Morgan asks in a rush. "Think about it, right? Attractive young women, _slaves_ , surrounded by a bunch of amoral men?"

"Oh." I blink. " _Oh_. Okay. I get the picture."

This is a lot darker than the game. Wow, okay, yeah, that _would_ be a worry. That is a _huge_ worry. Holy shit.

"We can't be hasty." I say nervously. "But… God, I wish we had an army right now."

"I know, right?" Morgan mutters. Her hand tightens on her notebook. "But we can't do _anything_ until some of them leave."

" _So this is what it's like to feel powerless._ " I think, grimacing. " _Not something I ever wanted to feel, but here I am._ "

It's hard to keep my eyes off Noire after that. I hate the twisting in my gut I feel when the slaves are taken back inside the ruins, where we can't see that they're alright.

I hope we get an opening soon. I want Noire, and the rest of the slaves, _out_.

###

The logical part of my brain says that a large division of the slavers leaving probably means they're going on another raid, which is certainly a bad thing, but the emotional part of my brain is overjoyed at the thought we might be able to actually do something to help the captives here right now… which is still a good thing I suppose.

However, five against two is still not great odds, so we have to be careful about this. It's just reaching sundown, so any plan to just grab slaves and run is moot. There's no way we'll navigate safely in the dark with people on our trail. We need to take out the five guards, free the slaves, and then go. We should have a few hours, which is plenty of time, because I doubt that raid is going to be _super_ fast, and they have to travel to whatever village they're heading for in the first place, _and_ they have to travel back here…

So yeah, we should have time. Probably. Hopefully.

"Plan?" I ask in a whisper.

"Kill things." Morgan replies. "Pick off the patrolling guards one by one, and then we can take on the two guarding the ruins proper."

"Okay." I mumble. I take a long, deep breath. "Okay. Just point me in the right direction."

"We still need to wait a moment, we need to see how the guards are going to patrol."

"Right, right, right."

The wait is agonizing. We watch the three guards slowly patrol around the edge of their camp. An obvious problem presents itself in that the camp isn't _particularly_ large, so it's rare that they're out of each other's view.

"We need somewhere we can get an unnoticed kill, at least for a few moments." I whisper. "Maybe just as someone comes around the side of one of the ruins?"

"Maybe." Morgan mutters. "We'd have to get in position without being noticed though."

"Well…" I say slowly. "Maybe not."

"How so?"

"Only one of them has a bow. If we can take him out, then your range advantage might be enough to deal with the rest of them. We might not need to isolate them if we can take out the archer."

" _Might_." Morgan emphasises. "Though that is a good point. There isn't necessarily going to be a clean way to deal with this."

"Hmm…" I frown. My mind flicks between a few other locations and a few crappy plans before settling on… "Hey, I have another idea."

"What?"

"I look like a brigand, right?"

"Yeah…?"

"So, what if I were to just walk up to them, and say I'm new. Maybe I went off to take a piss or something and came back to everyone being gone." I offer. "I might be able to distract one or two of them so you can shoot 'em in the back."

"That's risky…"

"Yes, but what plan do we have that _isn't_ risky?"

"True." Morgan grimaces. She's not exactly _happy_ about that fact, but it's a fact nonetheless. "I don't want you walking into danger like that though."

"Choose the logically best plan, ignore your emotions." I murmur. "What do we do?"

"Aaugh…" Morgan groans. "Okay, fine. Go be a distraction. I'll blast them from behind. Don't die."

"That's the plan… or at least I hope it is." I mutter as I cautiously climb down the tree. Morgan clambers after me, and is notably more nimble than myself.

I wait a moment so Morgan can put some distance between herself and me, take a deep breath, and saunter towards the camp.

"Hey!" I bark to one of the guards, trying to sound as gruff as I can. "Where the fuck did everyone go!?"

"Who the fuck are you!?" The guard shouts back.

"I'm Garnef!" I say, using the first name that comes to mind… which just happens to be an old fire emblem villain. Well, too late to change that now. "The new guy? Remember?" I frown. "Goddamnit, why can't you guys ever remember me?"

Honestly, considering I haven't been stabbed yet, I think this is going fairly well. Refuge in audacity for the win?

"How the hell did you miss the raid!?" The guard shouts.

"No one told me about it!"

"And you missed everyone leavin' too?!"

"I was taking a piss!"

"For _ten_ mintues!?"

"I have _problems_ alright!?"

At this point the other guards have come over to see what the commotion is about. One of them looks suspicious, but the other is smirking in amusement. Better yet, they're standing right next to each other and one of those two has a bow.

" _Any second now Morgan…_ " I think while crossing my arms. " _Light 'em up_. _Kill the archer._ "

The girl doesn't disappoint. A fireball comes roaring out of the trees and engulfs the two spectating guards. It takes a few seconds to fully kill them, and they scream in pain and fall to the floor in the meantime. I didn't realize elfire worked as a small area-of-effect attack. _Both_ guards are down. Nice.

I make the split second-decision to whirl around in Morgan's direction and pull out my axe. I'm not going to attack her, obviously, but I don't want the bandit near me taking a chunk out of me. I've never fought a proper battle in my life, so I'm going for deception rather than combat.

It pays off too. The person I was talking to runs right past me in a bid to get to Morgan, and I bury my axe in his back as he runs by.

Morgan calmly walks in and finishes off the three guards with swift flicks of her sword. "Three down. Well acted by the way."

"Thanks." I don't agree with that statement at all, I did terribly, but this isn't the time to debate. There's still two more to go. Hopefully we can take them out just as smoothly, but they certainly know we're coming. "So… how are we going to deal with the ruins? They know we're coming."

"Good point." She frowns while looking at the ruined building. "Hmm… okay, _I_ have a plan this time."

"Shoot."

"Shoot?"

"Uh, go ahead." I suppose since guns don't exist the term "shoot" either doesn't exist or isn't used a lot, and therefore the slang for "shoot" doesn't exist either.

"Just boost me up onto the roof. I'll shoot them from there. They'll probably be expecting us to come in the front." Morgan suggests.

That's… really smart. She's taking advantage of the ruin's collapsed ceiling for an unexpected angle of attack. "Okay, but we need to be quiet."

We move as quietly as possible around the back of the building, which is eerily silent. I expected the two remaining guards to be shouting threats or something. Maybe they're hiding behind the door, ready for an ambush.

Well the joke is on them.

Morgan is quite light (or maybe it's just because I'm stronger than I was in my old body), so it's easy to boost her up to where she needs to be. Immediately after I can hear some screams, some female, two male, and the crackle of fire.

I hope Morgan has good accuracy.

I run over the entrance, axe out, and cautiously step inside. I sigh in relief when I see the two remaining guards burning to a crisp on the floor.

Wow, that sounds really terrible of me. I'm on a roll today.

Morgan, again, finishes off the slavers with quick licks of her sword after she jumps from the roof down to the floor.

"Nice shooting." I praise. My nose wrinkles. "Bad smell though."

"Oh, sorry, just let me get out my _scentless_ fire tome." Morgan huffs as I help her down off the roof.

I turn my eyes to the surprisingly large number of young women and girls, crammed into these ruins. That group we saw brought out before must not have been all of them. There's… uh…

"Four dozen. Geeze. They probably outnumber the slavers." Morgan mutters.

We each search one of the two guards. I find the key ring (and some silver, score) and hold it up. "Here we go."

At this point I also notice how _quiet_ the room is. You think with four dozen people in the ruins there would be _some_ noise aside from me fiddling with the keys, but all the women and girls are totally silent. Some of them stare at us while some are looking at the floor or huddling as far away as they can manage.

I move to Noire first, and try the various keys in the lock on her shackles. To break the weird silence, I start talking. "You alright?"

"U-Umm…" She blinks, apparently surprised I'm talking to her. "Not great?"

"Well, that's fair enough." I cringe. That was a bad question. "How long have you been with these people?"

"About a week." She responds.

"Well, today's the end of that." I say firmly. I finally find the right key, and her shackles pop open. "There we go."

Noire shakily stands up. I try not to stare. It's weird to see her up close. Mostly I'm still surprised how well the in-game art translates to real life. I mean, her face is marred by dirt and her black hair is knotted and awful, but she's still totally identifiable despite that.

"Hey Morg." I call.

"Yeah?"

"One of those guys outside had a bow, right?"

"Yeah."

"Grab it for Noire. Arrows too."

"Ah, good idea." She turns in place and runs out of the ruins. Noire blinks in shock.

"You… know my name?" She whispers.

"Yep. Hi. I'm Nathan." I extend my hand for a shake. She eyes me warily for a moment, then accepts the gesture. "So, uh, we have no idea when the other slavers will be back, so if we need some extra defence you might need to shoot some fools, okay?"

"S-Sure." She says. I hope that means she actually knows how to shoot and she isn't just saying that to placate me.

"You probably won't have to, but better safe than sorry." I say. I then turn my attention to the rest of the slaves, and start opening their shackles one by one.

###

It takes three times as long to get back to the village as it did to get to the slaver camp. Part of that is the slowness of the freed slaves, and part of it is the fact it's pitch dark out and getting quite cold. A few people have torches, some at the front and at the back, but we have to frequently pause to help up someone who stumbled and is having trouble getting up.

We _do_ make it back to the village though. We stumble in at… I don't know the time. I don't have a watch. It doesn't matter. We go knocking on some doors, irritating the residents, but when they see what we've brought with us they immediately jump into action. Soon the whole village is abuzz preparing food and finding extra blankets.

Mogan is useful at directing the chaos, but I don't have much to offer. So, instead, I sit at the side with Noire, talking.

"So, basically, me and Morgan are heading for Ylisse." I explain in a hushed voice. "She's a dimension hopper like you. Different but similar circumstances. We want to find the Shepherds. I presume you do too?"

"Th-That would be nice." Noire agrees. "I can come with you?"

"Of course. The more the merrier… and it will be safer anyhow. You know how to fight after all. More protection is always good." I shrug. I eye her for a moment, noting her tattered clothes. "Though we'll have to get you a new outfit first."

"I-It's fine, really. I can manage with this."

"Yeah, no. There's no way you're surviving without any warm clothes." I huff. "Besides, do you _really_ want to be walking around in something skimpy like that?"

Noire suddenly seems to realize her tattered clothing is showing perhaps a bit too much skin, and covers herself with her hands as best she can while giving an embarrassed squeak. I snort in amusement. It's probably inappropriate to be amused by this, but this whole day has been surreal enough that I'm having a hard time telling how I'm _supposed_ to react.

"Are you really laughing at a girl about the fact that she has terrible clothes from being a _slave_?" Morgan asks as she wanders over to us.

"Maybe." I say. I guess I technically am. Now that she says it out loud it sounds awful. I am doing terribly today.

Morgan shakes her head, but she's smiling. "You're lucky you can get away with that."

"I've gotten away with a _lot_ more than I ever expected to in the last few days." I shrug. It's true, I would have never imagined I would share a bed with Morgan (innocently, but still), or really just any of the physical closeness I've gotten away with over the last few days.

"It has to be your natural charm."

"You're mocking me, aren't you?"

"Eh, half and half." Morgan shrugs. "I mean, your social awareness is… not great. But it's that exact thing that lets you get away with this, cuz I'm pretty sure Noire here picked up on that right away." She glances at Noire. "Didn't you?"

"Yeah, s-sorta." The girl mumbles.

I feel slightly disappointed, and embarrassed, upon hearing that.

"I wonder what the villagers are going to think though. You've picked up yet another young girl…" Morgan teases.

"You do realize I'm only nominally in charge of this group, right?" I respond dryly. "Besides, Noire is probably fairly close in age to me."

"I-I'm twenty…"

"See? One year. Barely anything." I huff. Morgan rolls her eyes. "And I hardly 'picked her up'. It was basically a given she would come with us. After all, you're a future kid too."

"You're no fun." The tactician sighs.

###

"I-I don't have to join you do I?" Noire mumbles.

Morgan frowns. "No, why would you- oh. Nathan!"

"Yeah?"

" _Two_ rooms!"

"Oh, right." I blink. Me and Morgan actually never bothered to get separate rooms after the first night. It was partially to save money, because while Morgan has a lot of gold she doesn't have an infinite amount, but it was mostly because we just couldn't be _bothered_ to change it.

Yes, just because we were _lazy_ we never got separate rooms.

"We'll get _two_ rooms." I emphasize.

The tavern keeper rolls his eyes. He got to hear the whole conversation, and has been smirking the whole time. "Take the room next to yours."

Morgan pays for the other room and we all go upstairs. Noire immediately gets changed out of her tattered clothes into the new ones we bought for her, and then we have an extremely late dinner (for free because we just saved a bunch of people). As it turns out, simple potato chips exist in this world (thin potato slices covered in vegetable oil then cooked in an oven), so I've been ordering those every single night. Morgan has been stealing some every single night, so whenever she does I take forkfulls of her main meal (usual chicken) as retribution.

For some reason this is stare-worthy for Noire. I don't get what's so unusual.

"So, erm, I meant to ask." I say after fending off another theft attempt by Morgan. "Noire, who's your father?"

"My father?"

"Yeah."

"Why just him?" Morgan asks curiously. "Why not ask about _both_ of her parents?"

"I already know her mother."

"You do?"

"Yep. Tharja."

"It's pronounced thar-ya." Noire corrects in a mumble. "Bu-But yes, she's my mother. How did you know?"

"I have outside knowledge." I shrug.

Noire doesn't exactly seem satisfied with that explanation, but she doesn't push further. "Wh-Why do you want to know why my father is?"

"It will help me determine certain facts about this world that might be pertinent information." Mostly skills, if those even exist. Also, it helps me figure out if hair color is passed down, which will help me figure out who Morgan's mother is because unlike all the other kids Morgan can get hair color from her mother. "I'm sorry if that sounds vague, but it _is_ useful information. I'm not just asking for curiosity's sake, though if you are truly uncomfortable I can get the information from someone else eventually."

Noire considers this for a moment, then reluctantly mutters. "Gaius."

Gaius huh? The hair color didn't pass down. Noire has black hair and Gaius has orange. I guess that's just a game mechanic.

"S-So what does that help you with?" Noire asks after a few seconds of quiet.

"Well, it tells me that figuring out Morgan's mother is going to _way_ more difficult." I mutter. "There's a lot of information I had that's totally down the drain now. I'd have to ask some more questions to determine if some of my other information is still relevant too."

"Like…?"

"If I say "Lethality" or "Lucky Seven" does that mean anything to you?"

"No…?"

"Right, okay." So there's a chance that skills in the game-like sense don't exist. Maybe Gaius taught her how to pick locks or use a dagger, but in the realistic way and not through some gimmick. I think I can safely assume by this point that most game mechanics are non-factors. "Well shit."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine." I mumble. It's not fine. This sucks. That's a lot of potentially important information on skills and parentage that's totally worthless now. I suddenly know a lot less about this world than I could have. My only worth right now is that I have knowledge about the world, the people in it, and future events. Any reduction to my knowledge is a reduction of my worth, and a reduction of my worth might be fatal if the Shepherds decide I'm not worth keeping around because there's no way I'm going to survive on my own in this world.

###

I wake up with Morgan's face mashed against my cheek and her body on top of mine. The girl rolls in her sleep, a lot. I'm surprised it didn't wake me up. I wait for a few moments, squinting against the sun sneaking through the ratty curtain, to see if she'll wake up. When it's clear she won't wake up on her own I poke her in the cheek, _repeatedly_ , until she does.

"Wuuuut?" She mumbles. Her eyes crack open to gaze blearily at me.

"Muhahaha, you're mine now girl!" I say flatly, not bothering with the appropriate inflection. "Take off your coat… or something like that."

Morgan pauses for a second, then snorts in amusement at the callback and pushes herself up. "Nice."

"Did I meet your expectations this time?" I asks cheekily.

"With that monotone voice? No way." She replies as she rubs sleep from her eyes. "We were gonna leave today right?"

"I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"You're the one who usually keeps track of this stuff. Sue me." I shrug, and sit up myself.

"What would you do without me?" Morgan teases.

"Die in a ditch probably. Freeze, starve, one of the two."

"Wow, the _confidence_ on you in unbelievable." She drawls sarcastically. "Don't give yourself _too_ much credit there. I might accuse you of having a positive self-image."

"I'll take realistic over positive."

"But that was neither."

"I disagree."

"And you're wrong." She steps out of bed, stretches, and grabs her coat. "Ugh… okay, let's wake Noire, grab breakfast, see if our stuff is ready, and get gone."

"Sounds like a plan." I yawn. I watch her find her boots (which she tossed aside last night), frown upon seeing her hair, and reach a hand out to correct the _mess_ on her head. "You need a comb."

"Says you."

"Says me." I agree. "And probably Noire if we asked her."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"Well thanks fashion guru." She snorts. "I'll keep that in mind."

"No you won't. You'll 'forget' immediately." I retort. "Won't you?"

"Guilty as charged." She responds unabashedly. She huffs when I run my fingers through her dark brown hair, trying to straighten it. "Come on, it's not that bad!"

"You look like you let a family of crows use your hair for a nest."

"That's… a very specific look."

" _Your_ look. Because you don't have a comb."

"Well _excuse_ my past probably dimension-hopping self from a horrible future for not considering a _comb_ top priority." She pouts.

"Forgiven. I'm correcting that mistake now anyhow."

"Sure you are."

"You think I'm joking, but I'm not."

"Prove it." Morgan challenges.

"Fine." I put on my overclothes, snatch my coin purse, and leave.

###

"Umm…" Noire says tentatively, glancing between us. "Am I missing something…?"

"A comb." I respond smugly.

"Proper priorities for our money." Morgan huffs with her arms crossed. "Ow…"

"You have tangles because you didn't clean your hair enough. Your fault." I scold as I work through another knot in her hair with the newly-purchased wooden comb in my hand. "Now sit still."

"I'm eating!" She complains.

"And I'm combing." I respond flatly. "Deal with it."

"It's a waste of our money." Morgan jabs.

" _My_ money. It's my choice."

"So what? _My_ money is group funds, but you can spend yours however you want?"

"No. But you're too nice to let us fend for ourselves." I say with a triumphant smirk.

Morgan _glares_ , but she knows I'm right.

"Besides, it was only a couple copper. Basically nothing."

"Some people would kill for a couple copper."

"Some people would kill you for _breathing_ , but you don't seem worried about me wasting air." I respond cheekily. "You've lost Morgan. Accept it."

"I'm a master tactician, I never lose."

"A good tactician can't lie to themselves, otherwise they're accepting obviously false information." I reply evenly.

Morgan's eyes promise murder, Noire looks utterly confused, and I'm still smiling smugly. This is a good start to the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How Nathan deals with combat is something I had to have a good long think about when planning to make this a full story. I actually intend for him to be a noncombatant, which is fairly unusual for isekai/self-insert main characters from what I'm aware. I have to consider what he'll end up doing if he's not fighting though, as fighting is the most obvious way for a protagonist to interact with the plot.
> 
> I've learned from the next few chapters that Noire is very much a background character. She really doesn't mesh all that well with Nathan and Morgan at the moment. Remember, they're both strangers to her, and she's not nearly as quick to trust as Morgan is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you familiar with the first version of this story will notice the difference in how I'm handling Nathan's combat capability. Originally I gave Nathan a sort of auto-aim so he could contribute something to a fight if need be, but I've decided to remove that because it really isn't necessary.

I don't like my new body. It's stronger than my old one and more attractive, but it's not mine so I hate it.

At the very least my new body is convenient for traveling. I don't feel tired nearly as quickly as I would with my old body. I can last more than two hours of walking around, and do so through cold temperatures with uneven terrain at that.

Morgan and Noire are fairly endurant too, but Noire is malnourished and Morgan just doesn't have as much physical ability as I do. It feels strange to be the most physically able of the group though. That's never been me before.

That's why I end up giving the girls piggyback rides. Morgan eagerly accepts when I offer, but Noire is hesitant. I guess I don't blame her. I'm still a weird bandit-looking guy. I wouldn't be eager to accept a ride from myself either, or any sort of that physical contact for that matter, even if I am somewhat responsible for saving her.

Eventually, after some prodding from Morgan, she reluctantly accepts a ride. Morgan was a squirmy passenger. She couldn't sit still and constantly chattered in my ear as I walked. Noire is the opposite. She's as still as a board and totally silent. She doesn't rest her head on my shoulder like Morgan did, instead choosing to keep her head resting against the back of mine.

She's also keeping her upper body arced away from mine, which cannot be comfortable.

"Noire, I get that you think Nathan is scary, but seriously, you're going to give yourself a back ache like that." Morgan interjects. "I was fine, right? You'll be fine too."

Noire's grip on my shoulders tightens. "But…"

"Look, if you really were really worried about it, you wouldn't have accepted a ride in the first place right?" Morgan points out. "And you've already got your legs around his waist. So, again, if you were _really_ concerned about something sketchy, you're already past the point of stopping that."

I blink and process that information. Something sketchy? From me? I already helped save Noire's life, what makes her think I'd hurt her now? What does having her legs-

Oooh, _that_ sort of sketchy…

Morgan glances at me and raises an amused eyebrow. "You just figured it out, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"See Noire, nothing to worry about. Didn't even cross his mind."

" _Well now it has. Thanks for that Morgan._ " I think, and scrunch up my face at the girl. She rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue in response. "If anything, the fact that _you_ thought of it means you have a dirty mind."

She gasps in a way that's obviously fake. "Me? Never! I'm just a child! Look at this innocent face." She frames her face with her hands and smiles sweetly, though in her amusement she can't quite keep it up and it quickly turns into something closer to a smug grin.

"Your smugness is showing." I say. "All I see is the grin of a devil."

"First you accuse me of being lewd, and then you call me a devil!" Morgan gasps. "My reputation will never recover! I'm forever despoiled!"

"Despoiled? Now you're just overacting." I scoff. "And isn't it defiled, not despoiled?"

"Defiled? Now who's being lewd?" Morgan teases back, dropping her act.

Noire watches all of this silently. I wish I could see her expression right now to know if she's horrified, disgusted, or something negative like that.

"So anyhow, point is, don't worry." Morgan addresses Noire. She really can change subject on a dime, huh? "Relax…"

Noire shifts in place, probably uncomfortable, but reluctantly rests her head on my shoulder and her upper body against my back. I think it would be best I don't comment on this whole exchange, so I don't.

"No comment Nathan?" Morgan grins.

Oh, so you're _trying_ to make everyone uncomfortable, are you? I mean, that's par for the course considering what I know about female Morgan from the game I guess, but… "perhaps we should drop this, at least for the moment? While I might tolerate your teasing, Noire's clearly less comfortable with it." I'm not even sure what Morgan was trying to insinuate with that comment, because her tone suggested an insinuation.

Morgan balks, hesitates, then nods. "Alright. I'll wait until my next ride."

"You assume you're getting another one." I huff.

"Of course I am! We still have weeks of travel, and you aren't about to pass up the chance to have a cute girl wrapped…" She trails off. "Sorry, stopping."

"Thank you." Oh, so that was the insinuation. Maybe I was more accurate than I assumed when I joked that she was a lewd girl.

We walk in silence for a few minutes before Morgan speaks up. "Incidentally Noire, I'm an adult. No need to look so worried."

So Noire _was_ making a face… people thinking I'm taking advantage of Morgan better not be a running joke. I mean, I don't mind when Morgan jokes about it, but she _knows_ it's a joke. Otherwise it's is really inconvenient.

Well, I guess I _am_ taking advantage of Morgan, but I'm taking advantage of her kindness, not… her body.

I don't like this train of thought. Moving on.

###

I kinda forgot the medieval ages had a lot less music variety. When I started singing quietly to myself, Morgan and Noire instantly took an interest. My singing voice is awful, but I guess the novelty of new styles of songs outweighs that.

I try and go through as many styles as I can, but I really only listen to pop and rock. I have to wonder how they'd take to heavy metal if they could hear it, or techno for that matter.

I sing as many songs as I can remember before my voice gives out. Proper songs, parody songs, video game songs, anything. Lost in Thoughts all Alone and both versions of Edge of Dawn are a given, but I throw in about a dozen Sonic songs, multiple themes for television shows, and a few proper songs like You Don't Mess Around with Jim and American Pie. I sing various things for about an hour before my voice is hoarse and I have to stop.

At the very least it seems to make Noire less cautious of me and lends some credibility to my claim of being an outrealmer.

I feel a sense of melancholy after I stop singing. If this is real, if this isn't a coma, I'll never be able to hear those songs again. It's not the same to sing them as it is to hear them. The internet, the _internet_ , I'll never get that again. Books and plays just don't compare. There's a reason the internet is so addicting, it's _awesome_. I wish more than anything now that I was good with music or electronics so I could at least recreate some of my world here, but I don't even really know how a lightbulb works. I know you push electricity through a coiled wire, but I don't know why or how that does anything.

"What's up?" Morgan asks. Of course she noticed. I'll have to learn to be more subtle. No one likes angst from other people. I know I find it annoying. I mean, if it was something important I'd be sympathetic, but something as pointless as not being able to have internet? That would be irritating.

"Nothing."

She raises an eyebrow, not convinced.

"Nothing _important_." I clarify. "Nothing you could do anything about either, so don't worry."

"If you're trying to get me to ignore it, you're doing a terrible job." Morgan says bluntly. "Let me be the judge of what I can and can't do."

"Unless you can invent electricity, implement it into numerous instruments, invent an incredibly complicated system of devices to make a computer, or know how to make a portal to a world that may or may not be connected to the outrealms at all that I have no idea of being able to really direct you towards, you can't help." I say bluntly.

Morgan blinks slowly. Noire is staring at me. "So… you're not from the outrealms?"

"Hell if I know." I shrug. Adrenaline is starting to pump in my veins as my frustration spikes. "In my world magic doesn't exist. Also, I'm not sure if this is a hallucination or if I'm in a coma or something right now. Regardless of if this is real or not, I want _out_."

Morgan thinks it over. All of us are silent for almost two minutes. The world is quiet except for slight wind and the faint rustle of grass as Noire shifts from foot to foot with unease scrawled on her face.

Didn't I resolve to not tell Morgan about my situation? I just outed myself because I was frustrated. Great self-control there Nathan.

"You know, you being an outrealmer was a bit unbelievable before." Morgan says quietly. "I didn't discount the idea, but I was also taking under consideration that you might be a little insane. Then you sang all those songs, and I realized there's no way you could have just made all that up. You sang styles that don't exist here, you used words and referenced things that don't exist. I believed you were an outrealmer at that point, so believing that you're from somewhere outside the outrealms, especially considering your future vision that you won't explain, isn't too much of a stretch."

So she believes me, yay. Doesn't solve my problem. Then again, my problem is petty, I shouldn't have reacted so strongly. It was a dangerous choice to show my hand. I had refuge in Morgan not understanding where I was from. I didn't have to explain that they're characters from a game. There was _safety_ in keeping Morgan in the dark. I made a mistake because I'm too emotional, as usual.

"Look, it's nothing. You _can't_ help." I say bitterly. I'm aware of the venom in my voice, but it's hard to keep out. I've never been good at emotional control. "Not your fault, not your problem. If this is real, I don't expect there to be a way back. I'll just have to deal with how archaic this world is. That's ignoring the fact that I won't see my _family_ again either."

The bile in my voice has only increased. My face contorts into a snarl. It's not really directed at Morgan, just the world in general. I've always found it easy to _hate_ and to work myself up, and this situation is unfortunately perfect for both of those things.

I make an attempt to reign myself in. "There's no point getting involved with my issues. Sometimes there's no happy ending. I've resigned myself that this world is going to suck compared to mine, for both petty and proper reasons. Just let me be bitter. I'll get tired of it eventually. This is beyond both of our capabilities by a huge margin." My voice is hoarse, my eyes are probably red.

Morgan doesn't look happy with that answer. She frowns and crosses her arms while looking in my direction. I don't meet her eyes, instead choosing to glare at a tree to my left.

I'm partially expecting Morgan to scold me for my childish outburst. That's what I'm used to. You're never supposed to show anger to anyone. No one likes anger, I know I don't. Morgan's response is different though.

"You don't know any way back?"

I shake my head silently. Speaking is a bad idea right now I think.

"I don't have a solution." Morgan says quietly. "Crossing universes? Not my expertise… even if I've done it before apparently. I can't get you home. Not any time soon anyways, and if you're right then probably not ever."

Thanks for confirming that. I guess I was hoping she'd magically come up with a solution, but that's unreasonable to think.

"However." Morgan says. Her mouth sets into a firm line. "You're responsible for saving my life-"

" _Maybe_ I saved you." I cut in with a harsh hiss. Harsher than I intended. "I have no idea if the Risen would have come in an hour or two years. It might have been pointless for me to take you out of those ruins, and you have no proof of anything I did anyhow."

"-and I have no intent of abandoning you." Morgan continues, ignoring my words. "I know you're worried about that. It's why you make a joke of it, right? I can't send you home, but I can try and help you deal with this world and find something worthwhile."

"Don't make that sort of promise." I say sharply. "You have your own problems. Don't take on mine. You don't know if you'll be around me enough to keep that promise, or if you'll _want_ to be around me that long."

"If you're a total jerk, maybe, but I really don't think that's the case." Morgan says firmly. "If you'll _let_ me, I will help you. I happen to be fond of you if you haven't noticed already. This world might be worse than yours, but it doesn't have to be bad. Worse and bad are two different things."

"I'd say it's bad. There's probably going to be a _war_ , not to mention a world-killing dragon. Everyone is pretty racist, not to mention probably sexist, and I by no means enjoy any of the activities people would expect a man to do." I reply. "All in all… bad."

"There won't always be a war though." Morgan says quietly. "And people always suck. I doubt that's changed where you come from."

Considering the state of politics at the time I left, I really can't deny that. "Yeah… maybe I'm overreacting…"

"Just a little. I wouldn't exactly be happy about being pulled out of my home never to return, especially if I actually _liked_ my home." Morgan says sympathetically. "I may have amnesia, but that means I don't know what I'm missing. You do, and _acutely_."

I hate this. I really do. I don't hate Morgan of course. No, I hate that this conversation happened, I hate the situation I'm in, I hate this world, and I hate that this doesn't look like a coma anymore. I hate that I can't keep myself under control, I hate that I don't feel like I deserve Morgan's help. I know I'm useless. I'm petrified of battle, have no useful skills for living in medieval times, and only have some vague future-knowledge and a new body to prevent me from being a total dead weight.

I want to accept Morgan's help for selfish reasons, and I _don't_ want to accept because I know I'll be more of a burden than a help in the long run. Morgan's goodwill isn't going to be infinite.

But at heart, I suppose I've always been selfish. There's no way I can pass up help in my situation. I'm not in a position to refuse unless I want to die in a gutter somewhere sooner rather than later.

"Alright…" I mutter, still feeling terrible about this whole situation.

"Good." Morgan nods.

"If there's something I can do in return then, tell me." I insist. "I don't have many useful skills, but…"

"Got it." She smiles.

To the side, Noire lets out a quiet sigh of relief. I'd forgotten she was there.

###

Camping is different now that we have Noire. For one thing, we don't have to use controlled explosions to knock birds out of trees for food anymore. Noire can just shoot them. Granted we brought food along with us, so Noire doesn't _need_ to hunt, but we all agree it's a good idea to supplement our supplies whenever possible, just in case.

Noire is quiet in comparison to me and Morgan. Me and Morgan talk about my world or this world (mostly my world because Morgan is curious, and there isn't much she can tell me about this world at the moment), I recount various media properties like Batman, Mario, Sonic, Teen Titans, and really anything I can think of. When my voice is tired from speaking so much, Morgan takes over to talk about the basics of tactics and strategy, if only to fill the quiet. Any attempt to try and pull Noire into the conversation doesn't last long. She'll speak quietly, and listen more than talk. I guess she's not comfortable with either of us. I can understand why she wouldn't like me, but Morgan?

Maybe she feels like a bit of a third wheel…

Incidentally, I take the time to explain Fire Emblem to Morgan. Now that she knows about my world, I might as well spill the details on how I know what I know. I can tell the instant she realizes that I'm talking about this world and people she actually knows because she sits up straight and listens in dead silence. Even Noire, who was mostly ignoring us while making arrows, stops what she's doing to listen.

"So that's what you mean by future sight." Morgan says quietly when I finish my explanation. "You… controlled us?"

"Well no. It's more like… moving pieces on a board that happen to have a lot of your traits. It was a game to us. A game created by people that was supposed to be entirely fictional. Magic doesn't even exist in our world and we have no confirmed knowledge of other dimensions. I don't know what sort of freak chance made a game that happens to resemble this world exist in the one I came from, but that's the fact of the matter." I sigh. "So I have no idea how accurate my knowledge actually is, and any deviations might have a ripple effect of making my knowledge progressively less accurate and useful."

"But that might be for the better." Morgan notes.

"Maybe." I agree.

"By the way." Morgan says. "I've been meaning to ask, what combat training did you have back home? Do you know some sort of super elite axe techniques?"

"Absolutely none." I sigh. "I was a civilian. My only arguable skill is writing, and not even very good writing."

"Oh." Morgan blinks. "A civilian?"

"Yeah."

"That explains so much." Morgan mutters. "I was under the assumption you were a warrior. Geeze, no wonder you're so panicky."

Ouch, but true. The conversation mostly ends there.

Today has been a heavy day. I feel emotionally and physically exhausted. Me and Morgan watch Noire cook some birds she shot over the fire. I'm slouched over with hands on my knees to keep myself up. Morgan, who's sitting next to me, leans into my side. I appreciate the contact. Something about touch is just… soothing. Maybe it's just the child in me that likes it.

"Thanks." I mutter quietly. I'm not sure if it's loud enough for Morgan to hear, but it must be because she ends up responding.

"Thanks?" She questions, and smirks. "Nathan… you know how we shared a bed for, like, three days?"

"Yes…?"

"Did you assume I was just humoring you or something?"

"Yes." Of course I did. I'm surprised she put up with it the first day, much less longer than that. "I got the impression you were indifferent to it, or doing it for my sake."

"Of course you did." Morgan sighs. "Well that's not the case."

"Oh." I guess I could have inferred that, but there's something that just seems… _wrong_ about Morgan being okay with being around me. It feels like a joke, like there's no way it could actually be true.

"So no need to say thanks. I'm fond of this too." She clarifies.

"Right." That feels too good to be true. There's a part of me that thinks she's lying just to make me feel better. "Morgan."

"Hmm?"

"Are you telling the truth?"

Morgan hums. "You have reason to doubt me?"

"I already know you think I'm fragile, and you're not exactly wrong." I mutter. "So I think I have a reason to assume you might lie for my sake."

The girl nods, then says in a neutral tone. "You know you're paranoid, right?"

"I'm well aware."

"Trust issues too."

"That's the reason for my question."

"I can't help but feel this is just an offshoot of your self-worth issues as well."

"Probably."

Morgan rolls her eyes. "Well I'm telling the truth, chill out. Like I said, I happen to be fond of this. You're worrying waaaay too much."

"But-"

"Nathan." She cuts me off. "You know how you said to ask if I needed anything?"

"Uh, yes?"

"I need you to stop being ridiculous."

I let out a frustrated sigh. If only it were so easy to ignore my inner doubt. "I can try."

"Like, if it's a _big_ deal we can keep talking about it, but I'm pretty sure you're having a minor doubt and unnecessarily working yourself up." Morgan clarifies.

As usual, she's right on the nose. "Yeah, that sounds like me." I admit in a mumble. It wouldn't be the first time I've done that. Working myself into a panic, or vehement hatred, sometimes both at the same time, is fairly standard for me.

So I try to stop worrying and let Morgan lean against me. I don't miss Noire breathing another quiet sigh of relief.

" _I'm really not making a good impression on her, am I?_ "

###

I put a conscious effort in the next day to try and chat with Noire. It goes badly. Very badly. Unfortunately, my mind is the same as before I got stuck in this world, so my social skills are just as garbage as they've always been. Morgan understands that I have the social grace of a large hairball and doesn't seem to mind all that much, but I'm fairly sure Noire just plain doesn't like me. She didn't before, and she definitely doesn't after today.

The problem seems to be that I just don't have anything to talk about with Noire. We have nothing in common, she's not particularly interested in small talk, and she doesn't like talking about herself either. She also physically shies away from me despite the fact that I am already intentionally keeping a fair distance.

I wish I could just say I'm bad at talking to women (and I am), but… this is just me being bad at talking to people in general.

Morgan keeps giving me the side-eye as I try to talk with Noire. I think she understands what I'm trying to do, hence why she doesn't try to stop me despite the fact that I'm probably bothering Noire.

Eventually I give up trying to make conversation with the nervous girl. It's clear I won't make any headway.

Incidentally, Morgan was correct when she said she'd get another ride. We still have plenty of distance to cover, and it's not like Morgan's endurance is going to magically improve to be equal to mine overnight. She wants to sit up on my shoulders this time, but after getting smacked in the face several times with branches she reluctantly transitions to a piggyback.

"So…" Morgan says in a quiet voice. Her breath tickles the back of my ear (which is actually somewhat uncomfortable, I don't like the tingling feeling it makes). "I take it your… whatever you were doing… didn't go well?"

"Unfortunately not." I sigh. "I felt like Noire was kinda being excluded, so I've been trying to talk with her, but I'm fairly sure she doesn't like me."

"Hmm…" Morgan hums. "Well, she was a slave not less than a week ago, and you are a total stranger who happens to know things about her and this world that you really shouldn't because this was literally a game to you at one point."

Yeah, fair point.

"She's probably still not sure what to do and is just following us because it's the only real option." Morgan murmurs. "Don't worry too much. It's only been a few days after all."

"Right." It still feels like a failure on my part though. "Do you think you'd have more success?"

"Probably…?" Morgan shrugs. "Do you want me to try?"

"Up to you." I murmur. "But if I would help her…"

"Alright." She nods. I think I can hear amusement in her voice. I can't see her face because it's slightly behind my field of view, but I imagine she's smirking. "And hey…"

"Hmm?"

"You were so worried about touch last night, but you're fine with this." She squeezes me lightly with her arms. "Hypocrite."

Yeah, I guess that is a bit hypocritical of-

"Or maybe you overcame your nervousness just because you _really_ wanted a cute girl on your back." Morgan teases.

I make the decision to play along with Morgan's joke this time. "Of course. I'm actually a terrible brigand, didn't my clothes give it away? This is an elaborate kidnapping."

"Oh really?"

"Really." I say in as flat a voice as I can manage. "I'm taking horrible perverted glee from my current situation."

"Oh no. Ahh. I'm in danger." Morgan says in an equally flat voice. "Oh dear. It's not like me being on your back is an advantageous situation for me in combat."

"I could smash you into a tree." I suggest.

Morgan nods. "You could, fair point. However I have a good position to stab you from here, or to strangle you."

"I suppose." I nod. "If you were stronger than me, your situation would have almost no downsides at all. There would be no risk of me grabbing you and… slamming you on the ground? Breaking a limb? I have easy access to your legs right now."

"Very true…" Morgan muses. "Hmm, I didn't consider my legs, that's a very good point."

"It's still more advantageous for you overall though." I say.

"I agree."

"So perhaps I should beware of the dangerous sword-wielding girl on my back?"

"Well, the joke of me being in danger was under the assumption that you were a horrible pervert, so unless you're implying _I'm_ a horrible pervert-"

"Well, considering you keep making mildly suggestive jokes, maybe you are."

"Rude!" Morgan huffs. She shifts on my back and tightens the grip her legs have around my waist. "I'm positively aghast!"

"I'm sure you are."

"Offended, really."

"Uh-huh."

"Beyond words."

"Well considering your jokes were at my expense at first, I think _I_ should be more offended than you."

"But I am a _lady_!" Morgan protests sarcastically. "To accuse me of something such as _lewdness_ would ruin me forever!"

"Right, as if your incredible tactical knowledge wouldn't guarantee you a position in any military in the world."

"Shh…" Morgan shushes. "I'm playing the offended delicate lady! Logic ruins the fun!"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, _delicate_ are you?"

"Shut up."

"I'm fairly sure you're too strong to be considered delicate."

Morgan pauses. "I'm not sure if I'm sarcastically offended or actually flattered…"

"Both?"

"Yeah, sure. Both." She's quiet for a moment, then says. "Where was I…?"

"Offended delicate lady."

"Right, right. Eh-hem. How dare you accuse _moi_ of lewdness! I am pure and incorruptible!"

"So you claim, yet your current situation is very unbecoming of a lady." I counter. "May I remind you that being carried on someone's back is not lady-like?"

"Nor is walking kilometers through the snow." Morgan sniffs pretentiously. "This is not an _optimal_ situation, but I will take being carried over an undignified slog."

Noire is giving us the side-eye again. If she didn't think I was weird before, she definitely does now. Actually, she probably thinks Morgan is a weirdo now too. I don't even know the point of this weird role-play we're doing, but hey, it's fun, and it's a way to pass the time.

"On the back of a _lewd_ brigand?"

"So you admit to lewdness!"

"I admit to no such thing, only that you think I am such."

"Well, be that as it may, I would prefer to be carried _properly_ , and by a proper knight, but alas I am reduced to such a horrid situation."

"Carried properly? Is this about you preferring to be up on my shoulders?"

"Oh heavens no! The mere _thought_ gives me heart palpitations!"

Really playing this up, aren't we? "Then what is your preference, _my lady_?" I add as much sarcasm to my voice as I can, and try to hide the fact that I'm smiling. "Shall I toss you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?"

I actually grab her (lower) legs as if preparing to move her, and Morgan's grip tightens.

"Naga, _no_!" She gasps in exaggerated fashion. "I should be carried in the arms as a proper knight would do!"

There's no way I can do that for long, that would hurt my arms, but for a little bit I can do it. "If you insist."

Morgan squeaks in surprise when I reach around and grab her by the back of her coat. I wouldn't actually be able to dislodge her if she didn't allow me to, her position gives her a good grip, but she allows me to lift her off my back and carry her in my arms. She's not heavy, but it's simply not practical to carry things in your arms for a long distance. That's the whole point of the piggyback ride.

It's actually a bit weird to carry her bridal style, mostly because she's looking at me the whole time and it's a lot more awkward to walk like this.

"Okay, there's no way I can keep carrying you like this." I say flatly.

"Yeah, doesn't look comfortable." Morgan agrees. She slides out of my grip and stands in the snow. "That was fun."

"Yeah." It _was_ fun. Not exactly what I expected to happen, but fun. I poke her in the nose. "Lewd girl."

"You were playing along too!"

"Oh sure, but I was just following the leader."

"I'm the leader of this group now?"

"You should be." I admit.

"Really?"

"The only reason I was in charge was because I had a vague idea of where we should be going. Though by that logic I suppose Noire should be in charge now." I muse. "But you're the tactician, someone who supposedly has leadership skills. Besides, you're also the calmest of us three."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Morgan smirks. "I _guess_ I'll lead."

"You say as if you weren't already leading." I say.

"Well yeah, but I wasn't really conscious of the fact I was expected to lead." The girl shrugs.

"Ah right… if you're not comfortable with it-"

"Nah, I can do it." She absently pats me on the arm. "I'm fine. It's a good point."

"Okay."

"Thanks for making sure though." She says. She looks towards Noire. "I'd say it's her turn to ride now, but…"

I glance at Noire, who immediately looks away. She was watching us the entire time as we were doing our weird roleplay.

"...maybe we should ask later."

"Yeah."

"We're weird, aren't we?"

"Just a bit." I nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan has a bit of a breakdown in this chapter, and Morgan steps up with a declaration of protection. This is also the first time where you get a proper taste of what Nathan and Morgan's dynamic is going to be going forward. They're a lot of fun from here on out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bla bla bla. Morgan and Nathan are weird (and Noire is there too I guess).

I sit very still as Morgan focuses on my face. I never considered there might be magic for something like this, but I suppose magic has never been limited to just tomes so it makes sense there would be some mundane utility spells like this.

"This is going to feel uncomfortable for a moment." Morgan warns. She reaches out and starts to run her hands over my jaw and around my mouth.

Her hands are hot. Not warm, _hot_. It feels like she's pressing two scalding hot water bottles to my face. She carefully runs her hands over my jaw, neck, cheeks, and around my mouth. The spell is specifically made to only burn hair and not skin, so I'm in no danger, but it's certainly uncomfortable.

Yes, you read that right. Apparently shaving spells are a thing. I didn't expect it to be by selectively _burning away_ hair, but hey, whatever works. It's a lot faster than shaving would be on Earth too, so I'm not going to argue.

"That's so much better." I say as I feel my newly 'shaven' jaw. "Facial hair is so uncomfortable."

"I'll take your word for it." Morgan says. She taps her clean cheeks. "Perks of being a girl."

"It's not like you don't get any." I scoff.

"Shh! Don't expose our secret!"

"Our?"

"Womenkind." Morgan says with a serious (and probably fake) expression. "We have an illusion to maintain!"

"Right, right." I say. "Sorry for implying you have _hair_ on your _face_."

"As you should be." Morgan nods. She's poorly hiding a smirk.

Noire is giving us the side-eye again. I'm fairly sure she thinks we're insane (or I'm insane and Morgan is humoring me). Morgan spoke with her yesterday to make sure everything was fine. Noire is still shaken up of course considering the shitshow that has been her life for the last multiple years, but she's "better than she's been in a while" which I suppose is good.

The three of us are sitting around yet another campfire. The snow is getting thicker the further east we go. I have to wonder if the lake/ocean effect has anything to do with that. The place where I woke up had no snow at all, and it was at almost the complete west end of Ferox, which would likely be near the western ocean which would cross to Valm. I suppose if it is winter right now, the further inland we go the more snow there will be because the oceans are still "warm" from the summer and were therefore passively heating the areas around it somewhat.

Just a guess. I don't have any way of knowing for sure; I'm not a meteorologist.

Point is: it's cold. Cold and wet. It sucks. Kinda. These furs are actually super good at keeping out the cold. I keep forgetting that just because these clothes are old-fashioned doesn't mean they're useless. People in the old times weren't _stupid_ (well, they were less educated, didn't have years of science involving incredibly accurate tools and whatnot, so maybe they were kinda stupid in comparison to my time, but even so) it's not like the Feroxi just sit down and go "welp, guess we'll be cold then". No, of course not. People were (usually) smart enough to get around common problems. Maybe not quite as well as modern solutions, but effective enough for their purposes.

A good way to show this would be agriculture. Sure, in modern times we have all these huge-ass machines and automated sprinklers and whatnot. But it's not like the people in the past didn't survive. The plow and old irrigation techniques are old-fashioned, but they got the job done. It's not _bad_ or _ineffective_ , just less effective than modern solutions.

"Nathan."

"Hmm?"

"What's up?"

"Thinking. Technological differences." I murmur. I shift on the log we're using to sit on, so we don't have to sit in the snow. "Nothing much."

"Are you catastrophizing about your situation again?"

"Maybe?" I frown. "Not as much."

"Hmm…" She hums. "It's cold."

That's very random, but yes. "It is."

" _I'm_ cold." She clarifies, staring up at me.

"Uh… we can probably put more logs on the fire…?" I suggest uncertainly. "Or we can move the log we're sitting on closer?" I glance at my bag. "We have blankets."

Morgan continues staring for a few seconds, then sighs. "Right, gotta be upfront."

She stands up, brushes herself off, takes two steps to the right, and sits down in my lap. I freeze in uncertainty as Morgan makes herself comfortable and rests against my fur clothes.

"Uhh…"

"Hmm?" Morgan tilts her head up to look at me. "Something wrong?"

"No." I mumble. My instinct is to assume she's doing this for my sake, but I push that thought aside. She's established that this isn't necessarily the case (or, at least, not the only reason) and that she takes some enjoyment from this. So I don't protest or complain, because it's not like this is unpleasant for me. Instead I lean forward and rest my chin on top of her head, and (very loosely) wrap my arms around her waist, kinda like I'm holding a very large stuffed animal.

I wonder how Morgan would take to being compared to a toy? She'd probably find it funny.

Morgan also seems very content with herself at the moment. I wonder why she's smiling. Noire is giving us the side-eye again. She does that a lot now that I think of it.

###

I wake up to Morgan yelping and scrambling out of her beroll. She frantically pats at her hair. I can smell smoke, and when I get a good look I can see her face is red on one side. That's not a blush, that's a burn.

I think Morgan rolled too close to the fire last night. That might be worth a vulnerary honestly. I think she woke up because her hair caught on fire.

" _Maybe she needs to put something between her and the fire._ " I think. I remember back in the tavern how I woke up with her basically on top of me because of how much she rolls around. She might have rolled straight out of bed if I wasn't in the way back then. " _Yeah, like a log or something…_ "

Morgan pats out the fire in her hair and stares sullenly at the singed bangs. Thankfully she doesn't seem to notice the burn on her face, but I rub sleep out of my eyes and find my vulnerary anyways.

"Here." I thrust it at her.

"What?"

"Your face is burned."

"It is?" She reaches up and touches the burned side of her face, then flinches. "Oh, it is."

She accepts the vulnerary and takes a small sip before passing it pack. I've never seen healing magic in action. I know a vulnerary isn't exactly healing magic, but it works the same way, right? Also, it's good to note that you do indeed _drink_ a vulnerary. I was never quite sure if it was supposed to be something put onto a wound or drank.

Morgan's burn fades over the course of a minute. So a vulnerary is less instant healing and closer to powerful regeneration. That might be pertinent information later.

Noire has also woken up thanks to our conversation. She silently gets out of her bedroll and starts preparing for the day. She tends to be a bit grumpy in the morning. I'm not a morning person either, but she's almost _hostile_ until she has breakfast.

After breakfast, we break camp and keep marching.

I never considered how dull travel could be until I had to walk for hours on end and couldn't read or play a game the whole time. It's not as bad as it could be considering I have company, but it still sucks. Day after day after day of nothing but trees and snow, and the snow is always getting worse. I imagine eventually we'll reach a point where the lake effect wears off, or maybe it already has and it's just pure chance or weird air patterns that are making it colder and snowier as we go further inland.

I suppose I'm lucky in the meantime that Morgan has an endless number of questions which at least gives me something to do as I'm almost always explaining something. Explaining the internet was fun, as well as trying to explain memes.

Eventually my voice wears out and I have to stop talking. Morgan picks up the slack easily and starts to explain fairly normal things, just to check what's similar to my world and what's different. There are a few things I never considered that could be a huge hassle. New clothes can take a bit to get. You can't necessarily just go out and buy some. You either need to make it yourself or get some created for you by a tailor (actually, there are several things you can't just go out and buy), transportation is slow and there's no real public transport, lighting up anything requires fire, news gets around slowly due to the fact that newspapers and the internet don't exist, and everything just seems so much more inconvenient.

Again, listening to all the various occupations that exist in this world as Morgan runs through them, I'm reminded that I don't have many useful skills for this world. The skills I do have also rely on writing, and my handwriting is not fantastic, and in this world you can't really erase mistakes you make when writing.

Hmm… maybe if it doesn't exist yet I could introduce the printing press, or at least give someone (Miriel?) the basic idea so they could figure it out. Then again, the amount of ink needed to mass produce any sort of text might be unsustainable at the moment, so such an invention might end up being useless.

One thing I'm hesitant to introduce is… hmm… I should ask if those exist. They're already old tech, and some other fire emblem games use them. I'd like to have one just in case, but… "Morgan."

"Do you know what a crossbow is?"

"A what?"

Okay, so crossbows _don't_ exist here. Not sure how well that lines up with modern world history, but whatever. That poses a problem for me though. I'd like to have a crossbow; it's an easy-to-use ranged weapon and functions basically the same as a gun. Yes, I know guns use gunpowder and have different mechanisms, I mean that it shoots the same way. You aim, press the trigger, and it shoots in a (more or less) straight line. Guns are just modern crossbows. Different launch mechanisms, different ammo, same general principle. The problem is, if crossbows don't exist here, introducing them could be a major issue. I fear that introducing the crossbow could cause an arms race.

Think about it, a crossbow is hugely useful for any military. Bowmen might be able to shoot faster, but they take years of training. You can hand a crossbow to _anyone_ , even a farmer who has never used a weapon before in their life, and they can probably use it to some level of effectiveness. The crossbow is useful not because of its power, but because of how many ranged troops it allows a military to field in a very short amount of time.

"What's a crossbow?" Morgan presses.

"It's… maybe best I don't tell you." I mutter.

"What!?"

"It's a weapon that could be made right now, and it would be very useful, but… I don't want to introduce it to a world that doesn't have it already." I explain. "I don't want to cause an arms race."

"Ah." Morgan frowns. "Okay. I… hmm…"

I can tell she doesn't like that. She doesn't want me to be hiding something potentially useful from her, but the idea of an arms race is giving her pause.

"Arms race how? Is it powerful?"

"Not really more so than current options." I say. My knowledge on the advantage of crossbows is very general. There might be other advantages I don't know of, but I'm confident in saying the manpower advantage is the main point. "The problem is how accessible it would be."

"Explain."

"It's a ranged weapon you could give to _anyone_ , and they could use it reasonably well in five minutes of training." I say. Crossbows aren't like modern guns either, they don't have severe recoil which probably makes them _easier_ to use than guns.

"Oh." Morgan mutters. "Okay, I can see how that would be an issue. Whichever country knew about it could field a lot of ranged troops without the hefty training requirement. That's what you were thinking?"

"Yes."

"Well that sucks." Morgan sighs. "I really want to know what it is."

"It would be useful to me to have one too." I mutter. A nice self-defence weapon that doesn't put me in melee range and therefore imminent danger would be nice. I don't even know if introducing the crossbow _would_ cause an arms race, I'm just worried it _could_. "But such is life."

"Someone _will_ probably invent the crossbow anyway, right?" Morgan asks.

"Probably." I nod. "I wouldn't be surprised if it exists somewhere in the world already."

"Then you introducing it versus someone else introducing it is only a matter of time." Morgan says.

"Basically." I agree reluctantly. I can see where this argument is going, and I don't know how to feel about it.

"So if you introduce it, at least you can be sure our side gets it before the other." Morgan says. "And it won't matter too much because crossbows will exist eventually anyways, right?"

I understand that logic, but it doesn't make me feel much better about introducing crossbows to this world. Can I really justify introducing new military technology earlier just because it would happen to benefit our side? Think about… the atomic bomb, for example. Yes, it was useful for the U.S. to use it to end the war and prevent more allied casualties, but does that _justify_ them introducing the atomic bomb to the world in the first place? The crossbow isn't nearly as severe as the atomic bomb of course, but the same issue presents itself here on a smaller scale. Can you _ever_ justify introducing new military technology? All you're doing is raising the stakes of future conflicts in exchange for a short term advantage in conflicts where the weapon is new. It's a double-edged sword though. If you hold back on military innovation, you leave yourself vulnerable to other factions that don't hold back. Doing the better thing, morally speaking, is the _incorrect_ decision from a national security perspective.

Morgan does have a point though. Sooner or later, I'm sure the crossbow will be invented. Someone will come up with the idea of a trigger-based bow that draws the string back on its own. It's not a huge technological leap like blackpowder where the world could reasonably go a long time without discovering how to make and use it. If I were talking about a flintlock pistol here, I would absolutely say I shouldn't bring it into the world. As blackpowder was refined it would inevitably spiral into the creation of more properly modern weaponry, and the creation of bombs.

"Nathan speak." Morgan says nervously. "What's up?"

"I can understand that argument, and for crossbows it might make sense." I mutter. "But I don't like the principal of the idea. Just because it benefits your side is not justification to introduce new military technology. That's a short term advantage in exchange for just raising the stakes in the next war, because everyone else will figure out your technology. Unless there's a huge tech gap, that _will_ happen."

"But we can't just give up a possible military advantage. What if someone else gets it first?" Morgan says unhappily.

"I know." I grimace. "It's a lose-lose situation. Hold back and get punished for trying to keep things from escalating, or escalate yourself and be the cause of an inevitable arms race. The moral choice loses militarily, and the military choice loses morally."

"It sounds to me…" Noire says hesitantly. I didn't expect her to contribute. "Like the only good solution would be for both sides to not escalate."

"But that would require them getting along, and if that were the case war wouldn't be a worry in the first place." I say.

"Ah…"

"And treaties don't work either. Some agreement that you both won't do X during war seldom stands when actual war hits and you have lives and probably more on the line." And, of course, there are plenty of countries that only care about themselves and don't particularly care about what happens to the other side. "It's rare enough to find individual people that honorable, much less a whole military command's worth."

There's a brief quiet between them. Philosophy is a bitch when you have to take it into serious consideration, mostly because it's rare to have any sort of concrete answers in philosophy. So many philosophers have claimed to "solve" X, Y, or Z, but when you look into it you can almost always find something wrong, and there are always a dozen rebuttals to any given idea.

"I guess the only solution would be to have only one side, so war isn't necessary." Morgan says quietly.

"Yeah." And we both know that will never happen. "But humans are too terrible, too petty, too _stupid_ , for that to happen. After all, people have gone to war for things as ridiculous as "glory"."

Morgan nods silently.

So what now? I've talked myself into a circle. There are reasons to not introduce new military tech and reasons to do so. Do I explain what crossbows are or not? I'm not going to come to a solution no matter how much I think about it.

I sigh and push aside the philosophy. I could really use a damn crossbow. "So this is roughly how it works…"

###

"By the way." I say. "We need to keep a lookout for signs of Kjelle."

"It's pronounced "jelle"." Noire corrects in a mumble. "Not Kuh-jelle. The K is silent."

"She's also located in the west of Ferox according to the game." I recount. "Less so than Morgan, but still pretty far over. Before halfway through Ferox at least."

"Intending to add to your little collection of girls?" Morgan teases. "First me, then Noire, next Kjelle? Maybe you do have a more elaborate plan you're not telling us, hmm?"

"I plan on starting an army from the girls I recruit." I say flatly. "By deceiving them with fake future knowledge."

"Genius plan."

"Thank you."

"And you even managed to snag a tactician. Very solid start."

"I needed someone who knows how to run an army. _I'm_ not going to do that." I say.

"So of course you sought out someone _renowned_." Morgan jokes and holds up her head in mock pride.

"Only the best for my army." I say, and pat her on the head.

Morgan snorts. "I thought we established that I'm an adult."

"I don't actually believe that." I say in my flat "I'm doing a bit" voice. "I just agreed to that to keep you pacified."

"How dare you." She says in a similar flat voice.

"I dare." I say. "I give you piggyback rides. You're a kid."

"You give Noire piggyback rides too!"

"Yeah, but she's not... small."

Morgan's eyes narrow. "Small?"

"Short." I clarify.

"Hmm…"

"What did you expect me to say?"

"Nothing."

Well that's clearly a lie, but I'm not going to push the issue. I think I have an idea of what she was thinking, and while "flat" would be a fantastic response I don't feel comfortable saying that. Playing it safe.

"Well, at least we both agree I'm the best." Morgan preens.

"Of course." I say, not using my sarcastic flat tone this time. "I don't think that was ever in question."

"I'm going to blush!" Morgan says with a wide grin.

"Please, I think it would take a lot more than that to make _you_ blush, lewd girl."

"Never underestimate the power of compliments!" Morgan cries out. "Right Noire?"

"Sure." Noire clearly doesn't care. She's giving us the same side-eye she always does whenever me and Morgan do something weird.

"Just take my word for it Nathan. A girl likes compliments."

"And you say this on your authority as the girliest girl who ever did girl?" I ask sarcastically.

"Yep. The girliest girl. Fashion, cooking, sewing, demure attitude, waiting to be married off. That's me." Morgan says with a straight face. "You can't tell me my clothes aren't the height of fashion."

"It _is_ a damn fine coat." The tactician longcoat is pretty awesome.

"I know, right?" Morgan says with genuine eagerness. "It's the best thing ever!"

"Remind me to steal it at some point. Maybe I can absorb your tactical genius from it."

"Ah yes, the coat is the source of my intelligence."

"Clearly. The clothes make the man after all. That's why I'm a brigand, I'm wearing the clothes for it."

"Ah, of course, how did I not see that beforehand?" Morgan gasps.

"Clothes are like shackles. By putting shackles on, you become a prisoner. By putting your coat on, you become a tactician." I say. "It's all about what you wear."

"Clearly!" Morgan cries dramatically. "How did I never see the connection?! By Naga, I think you've solved everything! To become kings, we must simply _dress_ as kings!"

"Indeed!" I add in a similarly exaggerated cry. "We must find the best jeweler, and get our crowns as quickly as possible!"

"Right away! Let us be off!"

Noire sighs. I think she's regretting coming with us at this point.

###

"Ow."

Well, I guess Morgan is awake. "Morning."

"I hate this rock."

"You're welcome."

"I feel like I have a dent in my head." She grumbles. She does indeed have a red spot where her head was pressed up against the large rock I put in front of her to stop her from rolling.

"I could tie you to a tree next time." I offer dryly. "I'm not letting you roll into the fire Morgan."

"That happened _once_." She complains. "Come on Nathan."

"Nope."

"I'm technically in charge! You said so yourself!"

"Too bad."

Morgan complains under her breath all through breakfast. I act as smug as possible to rub it in.

###

So, it's winter. I didn't necessarily know that before, because I just kinda assumed Ferox was snowy because of how far north it is. The only reason I found out is because as soon as we reached the next town we immediately got snowed in by a huge blizzard.

Here's the thing as well: people don't usually travel during the winter. Most of Ferox goes into lockdown, especially the people living in small villages, because there is basically nothing to do during winter. There are no crops to tend, it's too cold to stay out for long (I guess me, Morgan, and Noire got lucky, and these furs must really be effective), and no one really _wants_ to do anything. The only reason we managed to get into the tavern is because we hammered on the door. It's a stark difference from the first village. Maybe the ocean effect allowed the first town to keep running to an extent? The snow is much higher here, and it's a lot colder.

The owner of the tavern isn't exactly happy about us being here, but in his words "I can't just throw you out into the snow to die", so he's letting us stay. Stay for free no less. There's no telling how long we'll be stuck here, and apparently it's bad etiquette to force someone to pay when they're stuck in your place from a blizzard. It's "Feroxi hospitality".

So… free housing! He was grumpy, but I get the feeling the tavern owner is a nice guy. Actions speak louder than words and all that.

The downside is obviously that we're stuck in the tavern, and we don't have much company. Despite the snow blocking out so much, people are still busy. The tavern keeper's wife is busy with a number of crafts like knitting, spinning, weaving, and any number of crafts. The tavern keeper himself spends a decent amount of time doing repairs to the tavern and doing woodworking. He makes tables and chairs to repair the damaged ones, fixes floorboards, makes ladles and wooden plates and bowls, and spends the rest of his time either hunting or logging.

"I'd fix the walls and ceiling." He says once. "But I don't want to let a draft in."

Fair enough. It's already pretty chilly, and the cold is more noticeable now that we aren't moving all that much. Seeing as I'm otherwise doing nothing, I offer my help to the tavern-keeper (with the warning that I'm painfully inexperienced). He's glad to have help, inexperienced or not. Wood still burns no matter how poorly it's cut, and a fire of any given size heats as many people as can fit around it, so by helping with cutting trees and chopping logs I'm just getting him _extra_ firewood.

By the way, when I said we're stuck in this tavern for "a bit", I mean months. Not days, not weeks, _months_. After the blizzard dies down people occasionally visit the tavern, but that's only people from the village. We are also told, and surmise ourselves, that it would be dangerous to travel in the dead of winter when a blizzard could strike at any time, especially without a sled or skies. Also, the snow eventually comes up over the windows, and that's way too high to travel in.

So we're stuck. I'm lucky that the tavern owner doesn't mind teaching me some basic woodworking (as wasted wood from my failed attempts is still perfectly decent firewood, so it's no real loss), but Morgan and Noire aren't so lucky. They don't have anything to do really. Neither of them are skilled in tailoring, weaving, or any of the tasks that the tavern keeper's wife is doing, and thread is a lot more valuable than wood and they can't really afford to waste it on teaching strangers.

So maybe it's not a surprise both Morgan and Noire join me in learning how to woodwork. There's very little else to do. The tavern keeper doesn't mind us taking some wood for our own projects either. After all, _I'm_ the one getting some of the wood, so it's fine for us to use some.

Noire makes a backup bow, and buys some feathers and glue off one of the farmers that visit the tavern so she can make and fletch arrows. She's using wooden arrowheads, not flint or stone, so they're not as strong but most small game doesn't have too tough of hide (and neither do humans for that matter). These arrows might not be great against armor, but as hunting arrows (especially considering the power of Noire's bow making up for the material) they're perfectly fine. She also makes some simple wooden traps for catching small game.

Also, have you ever considered how odd it is that fire Emblem has 'iron' or 'steel' bows? I'm sure bows can be made of those, but a bow's power doesn't depend so much on it's material as much as with how much force it can fire an arrow. I'm not sure a steel bow is necessarily much better than wood. Maybe a 'steel bow' is referring to the arrowheads more than the actual weapon? Then again, I don't know bowmaking. Maybe there is a reason to have an actual steel bow. Maybe it does shoot further, or with more power.

Morgan makes some less combat-focused things. She makes a bunch of small figurines: soldiers, pegasus knights, wyvern riders, everything. They're crude, but recognizable. She also makes small wooden boxes that can be attached to belts. It's not as flexible as a leather pouch, but it's functional and durable.

This is why wood is great. You can make anything out of it. Speaking of that… I also make some items. First, I make a crossbow. It's a very simple crossbow, and I'm not sure how accurate it's going to shoot, but it's a crossbow. It takes a bit of planning to figure out how to make a trigger mechanism but I get something functional. Not _good_ , but functional. I'm sure there are better designs out there. I now have a crossbow and wooden arrows. The other thing I make is a small, crude chess set. Rather than little figurines I go with tokens in the shape of the icons for the pieces. Those will be much easier to replace if they get damaged or lost. I hollow out the block of wood the chess set is made of, add wooden hinges, and add a wooden latch on the back. Travel chess set! The pieces can be kept inside the board. I need to color the pieces, because right now they're the same. In the meantime I simply carve a triangle on one set of pieces and a square on the others to distinguish 'color'.

Some varnish would be nice to even out the roughness of the pieces, but hey, a chess set is a chess set. No matter how crappy the pieces, the game is the same.

However, we don't have work all the time. As busy as medieval life is, there's only so much to do in the winter. So that's where the other main pastime comes in… storytelling.

For obvious reasons I don't tell a lot of stories. Neither does Morgan. Heck, Morgan has no stories to tell that haven't happened since I found her. Noire is rather reluctant to tell stories, but as the only one of our group that can really do so, she ends up telling quite a few. Thankfully the tavern keeper likes the sound of his own voice, so he carries most afternoon story sessions by himself.

That's all the major activities that happen, but through multiple months of being stuck in the same place other things obviously happen. For one, Morgan doesn't take kindly to me constantly putting stools between her and the fire when she sleeps.

"It was _one time_ Nathan!"

"You almost rolled into a _fire_. One time is too many."

The tavern owner and his wife find this hilarious. Morgan has rolled into the stool several times by the way, so I remain firm in my choice to keep it there.

There's also the small problem of how _fucking cold_ it is. Everything I just mentioned above, all the woodwork, has to be done by the fire because of how chilly it always is. Even then we often throw blankets over ourselves to help with the chill. The only time we're not by the fire is when me and the tavern keeper go out to cut wood (and when the snow goes over the window, we don't even leave to do that).

Fuck winter. It's better than summer because summer has bugs, and better than spring, and fall because they also have bugs… okay, winter is my favourite season, but this particular winter sucks because medieval heating sucks.

So when it gets too cold (usually when the afternoon hits and the sun goes down), we all have to stop working out of practicality. Our hands get too cold and we can't see that well. One particular afternoon the tavern keeper and his wife are actually out visiting a friend of theirs to share dinner and tell stories, so that leaves just me, Morgan, and Noire at the tavern ("just don't burn our place down" was what the tavern keeper said before he left).

"It's so cold…" Morgan says in a lazy drawl. I'm not sure exactly why she's stating that fact, it's been literally two months of this. We all know it's cold. " _I'm_ cold."

"There is a fire. You are not sitting as close to the fire as you could be." I say.

"But you won't let me get close to the fire." She pouts.

"Under very specific circumstances." She knows this, so why is she bringing this up? Is this a bit? Maybe this is a bit. What role am I supposed to play? "You can move closer-"

"So I _guess_ I'll just have to find some other way to stay warm." Morgan sighs dramatically.

"Go ahead if you want?" I say in minor confusion. Noire is staring at me with a flat expression, and I feel like I'm missing something. I don't like feeling as if I'm missing something.

"Oh good, well then I'll just…" Morgan says with a grin. She stands up with her blanket, and then walks over to me and drapes it over my shoulders and on top of _my_ blanket.

"I don't exactly see how this is going to help _you_ -"

She squeezes her way under the two blankets and into my arms, and takes a seat in my lap. She makes herself comfortable and warm there.

"What were you saying?" Morgan asks smugly, like she's won some sort of victory. "How is this not going to help me?"

What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to say anything? I've always been bad at this sort of thing. Well, more accurately, I've never dealt with this before. At least not before I came to this world. What is 'this'? I'm actively avoiding giving a proper name to what Morgan is doing, but I probably shouldn't be intentionally ignoring this. So what is this? Cuddling? Well obviously.

Ahh, I'm doing that thing where you over-analyze something simple. Use logic. She's cuddling, she initiated the cuddle, and she has done something like this before. Noire always stares while she does it. Make the logical conclusion.

A crush? That seems like a logical conclusion, but to my ears that also sounds completely outlandish and unreasonable. I mean, I can sort of see how that would come about, but… it feels unearned.

Earned? Can affection be 'earned'? That's respect, not affection. Maybe I'm overthinking this. Do I just accept this? I have no idea what to do.

"Nathan?" Morgan whispers. She's looking up at me. When did she start doing that? "Are you alright?"

"Fine." I say by reflex. "I'm fine."

"Your expression says otherwise."

"My expression needs to mind its own damn business then." I sigh. "I'm probably overthinking it."

"Tell me." Morgan says. "What's up?"

I can't talk to Morgan about… Morgan. Can I? That doesn't seem right. It feels like something I shouldn't do. Besides, Morgan will probably just say it's my self-worth issues again (which it is, but what if I'm right this time?) and…

"Nathaaaan."

"I hate that I actually have to ask this." I mutter. "But are you flirting?"

"Yes." She says. She sounds slightly exasperated. "Not to sound rude, but did you just now figure it out because I outright _sat in your lap_?"

"I had an inkling before…" I mumble sheepishly. And I did, I'm not lying. I just pushed it out of my mind because the possibilities were too nerve-wracking, and I'm paying for it now. "Just wasn't positive. Not something I've ever dealt with before. Not to my knowledge at least."

"Really?"

"Yes." I don't like to admit that. Do you know how pathetic that sounds? Haha, laugh at the shut-in.

"Was that the problem?"

"Not entirely."

"So what's up then?"

"You're going to just tell what you've told me before." I mutter.

Morgan takes a moment to think, then says. "This is your self-worth issues again, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately so."

"I think I know what's going on then." Morgan says. "Let me guess, something along the lines of: I've done nothing to deserve affection, what is there to like, and why so soon?"

"All but the last one. I know things can happen quickly." I mutter. After all, when people ask people they never met on a date, it's to get a romantic relationship with someone they've literally never met before that point. I'm not about to raise an eyebrow at the timeframe here.

"So, let me give my perspective. Maybe this will clarify things." Morgan says. "So, first, you've saved my life."

"I-"

"Yes, you technically may not have." Morgan huffs. "Look, would you _not_ be inclined to think positively of someone who took you out of danger? Yes, fine, you didn't save my life. You still went out of your way to remove me from a potentially dangerous situation."

Well I can't argue with that…

"Second, remember what I said before about compliments?"

"Yes?" A girl likes compliments, that's what she said. I'm fairly sure _most_ people like compliments, but…

"Well I wasn't exactly lying, and may I point out that you do that quite frequently."

"What? You mean talking about your tactical knowledge? You're smart, that's just stating facts." I say. "Besides, I haven't said anything about your personality or appearance…"

"Doesn't mean it wasn't a compliment Nathan."

Okay, that's also true, but… "Well-"

"Nathan, stop trying to downplay it!" Morgan huffs. "Don't you dare!"

I go quiet.

"Besides, I think we both know you probably wouldn't give a compliment like that out of shyness."

True. Unfortunately very true.

"Also… well you're nice. Easily panicked, nervous, but nice." She shrugs. "How many people do you think would actually roleplay with me?"

I open my mouth to respond and Morgan glares a bit.

"Nathan..."

"But-"

"I know what you're going to say, Owain and Cynthia, but they're not here."

I close my mouth.

"Nathan, just- Look, I happen to like you, alright? You don't have to feel _guilty_ about it. You've done things to deserve a positive opinion." Morgan huffs. "Seriously, it's fine."

Now I feel bad that she had to spell this out for me… I probably shouldn't bring that up. Let's stop the guilt spiral before it begins. "I happen to like you too." I mumble, feeling embarrassed just to say it.

Morgan's grin is very wide. "Good, then you can cuddle."

I nod mutely.

Off to the side Noire rolls her eyes and turns back to the fire. I wonder how long ago she figured out Morgan was flirting. That would actually explain the side-eye she gives us all the time.

With Morgan and my new… what? We're not in a relationship or anything, so… umm… our new _thing_ , our _dynamic_ (there has to be a word for this that I'm not thinking of), it doesn't actually change too much. The only real difference is that Morgan doesn't bother with a flimsy excuse when she wants to cuddle and simply sits down in my lap unprompted. It's nice to be honest. I'm much more cautious about initiating anything, but I do sometimes. Also, rather than putting a stool between her and the fire I sleep between her and the fire, so now instead of smacking her head on a stool whenever she rolls around at night she instead rolls into me. There are many mornings when I wake up with her having rolled into or on top of me in some fashion. It reminds me of the nights we spent at the first village when I forgot to get us separate rooms. Thankfully, she doesn't drool.

###

Feroxi winters are long. Five months long in fact. That's one month short of half the year. We got there in the first month, so we had a four-month stay in the tavern.

Morgan pays the tavern keeper generously for putting up with three random strangers. Judging by the shocked look on the man's face when he receives the money, I think she may have overpaid him, but she refuses to let him give her anything back.

"You didn't just house us, you also fed us and taught us to work with wood." Morgan explains to the man. "So that's worth something too."

Before we leave, we also procure a few more supplies we had overlooked the first time around. This includes extra blankets, some rope, snow shoes, and a single large tent. We'd get multiple, but my being able to give piggyback rides is actually important to our progress so we can't carry too many large things with us (because when I give a piggyback, whoever is on my back is the one carrying both their things and my things. The backpacks are small enough that it's not an issue, but the tent is probably the upper limit).

"Onward to Kjelle then, hopefully." I say.

"We shall assimilate another member into our group!" Morgan cries. "Beware Kjelle! We are coming for you!"

"At least there will be _someone_ I know once we find her." Noire mumbles. "No offence to you two."

I understand. We may be her travelling companions, but we're not the people she has spent multiple years surviving in a Risen-infested future with.

"We just have to go east and cross our fingers. In the game, she's going after a certain bandit because he killed her 'master', whoever that is. Judging by the timeline we found Noire, she might still be training under her master." I guess. "That's not for certain though. What happened in the game isn't necessarily going to happen here."

"Still, that's the best we've got to go with." Morgan says. She raises her hand and points east. "Onward!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where Nathan and Morgan really take off as characters. They're very different from each other, but they still come together to be dorks and do spontaneous roleplay. It wasn't really my intent for Morgan to act as a sort of foil to Nathan when I first wrote this, but that's how she ended up. Also, the original intent for this story when it was just ideas in my head was to have Noire as a love interest, but Morgan ended up being so fun that I decided to use her instead.
> 
> Also, I have to wonder what Noire's internal monologue is like as she's travelling with these two.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan is still bad with the whole "talking to people" thing, especially when it comes to Noire. At least Morgan doesn't mind.

"I see it, I see it, and now it's all within my reach~" I sing. "Endless possibility~!"

I remembered that Sonic songs exist again, so today has been Sonic day for my bad singing as we make our way east. Morgan and Noire have heard me sing these before, but that's fine. These are probably the best songs (and by "best" I mean most well-crafted) I know the lyrics too, because most of the songs I know are parodies. Sure, I could sing some Instalok, but with all the gamer lingo in there it's going to make even less sense than usual to the girls.

I'm sure Morgan would find it interesting anyways. I think she's more interested in the style of the songs than the content (as you'd expect, seeing as rock and pop don't exist here). Not for the first time I wish I could play an instrument so I could let them hear what the songs sound like to some extent. Maybe not exactly what they sound like, it's not like this world is going to have electric guitars, but at least an approximation of them.

I'm usually the one that sings. Noire knows a few songs, but they're either pub songs or the old country-style songs you'd expect to hear at a festival. She also doesn't know that many compared to me. She can sing maybe seven songs, and I can do several dozen (provided I can remember they exist at least).

Worst though are the songs that I can only remember part of. A few good lyrics, or maybe the chorus and a verse, but not all of it. I don't know all of Sonic Boom, I keep getting the lyrics for Fist Bump wrong, and I'll never be able to go back on the internet to find out what they are.

That's not even considering all the pure music I can't replicate and won't get to hear again. Goodbye Sonic Medley, various game soundtracks, and all those remixed songs and music you can find online. That's no small loss. Music was a large part of what I did on a daily basis. It's weird to say that the natural world sounds dull in comparison, but it does. It's just a bunch of crunching, breathing, and rustling. Voices aren't crisp and clear, sounds aren't perfectly choreographed and timed...

Say what you want about technology addiction. People are addicted for a good reason. Especially for someone like me who despises physical exertion and the outdoors in general, the internet was a more welcome world to me than the natural world ever was… and I might not ever get to use it again.

Maybe it's best not to dwell on that though. The more I think about it, the worse it gets, and I'm unfortunately skilled at working myself up.

My singing has faltered and trailed off as I have this internal reflection. Neither Noire nor Morgan comment, though Morgan does silently shoulder-bump me in some form of comfort.

Apparently four months of being stuck in a tavern is not enough to make you forget the painful fact that entertainment in your new world is pitiful compared to your old one.

I start singing again and do so until my voice is hoarse. If my voice is the only way I'll ever hear these songs again, I better sing them often or else I'll forget.

###

I can honestly say I never expected Noire to initiate a conversation with me. Considering what her usual behaviour around me has been, I was fairly sure I was in the "avoid entirely or tolerate at a distance" category for her.

She chose her time strategically. Morgan just left to bath in the river (more like splash water on her face because it's still quite cold out and we don't need someone getting hypothermia) so it's only me and Noire around the fire. The sun hasn't quite set yet, there are still a few dying streaks of orange and yellow across the clouds. The world is quiet except for the fire. Animals and insects are yet to emerge; the thaw isn't quite to that level yet.

"Nathan." Noire says quietly. We're both sitting on logs on opposite sides of our campfire. My head snaps up in surprise and she flinches in response. We scared each other it seems. "I-I have a question."

"Uh, sure, shoot." I say. Then I remember that 'shoot' doesn't work as slang here. "I mean, go ahead."

"You know about me, right?"

That's… not wrong. "Sort of? I know certain things that are likely, but not certain, to be true in some capacity. I can't vouch for complete accuracy."

"That's fine." She says. "Or, well, no it's not. That's the problem I guess."

"I don't follow." I say hesitantly. "The problem is that I might know things about you to an uncertain level of accuracy?"

"Yes." Noire nods fervently. "I… I have things…" She takes a breath and suddenly she's shouting. "I don't like you knowing everything about me! Some things are personal!"

It takes me a long second to process that. "Oh, _oh_. Okay, uh… right." I can see how that would be an issue. Someone who is a total stranger claims to know about you, including personal details… okay, fair gripe. However… "I know certain things. Not everything. I only know as much as your theoretic game counterpart would mention during interactions with other characters.

"What do you know then?" She asks fervently.

"I _possibly_ know that you come from a ruined future where Grima won and took over everything. You left via the power of Naga, a portal of some sort if memory serves, and arrived in this world scattered from your friends." I say. "Your relationship with Tharja was bad because she was abusive. Gaius died, your mother spiraled out of control, bad times all around. She tended to use you as a testing dummy for curses."

Noire's head droops to hide her face. I now realize I'm casually treading over very raw ground, and I feel much more nervous about mentioning anything else but I don't want to lie about what I know anymore..

"You have a talisman your mother gave you that controls your mood swings to an extent. You can still mood swing without it, so I don't know if the talisman actually has another function or not." I say. "You can't really control your mood swings too well. Sometimes you rage about petty things and it embarrasses you. You get sick easily and tended to pass colds back and forth with Brady when you were little. You're scared to go out at night by yourself. If for some reason you need to go out, you tend to ask Severa…" I pause. "I think that's about it. You might have a bit of a yandere side, but considering Morgan's sadism doesn't seem to be accurate and that trait only appears in one support for you, I'm doubting that's true."

"What's yandere?"

"Murderously possessive." Technically there's more to it than that, but as a brief description I think that works. Her support with Inigo really is the odd one out of her supports, just like how Morgan's support with Yarne really overplays her sometimes manipulative or selfish behaviour into outright sadism. Morgan's sadism didn't end up being all that true so I doubt Noire has much of a yandere side if any at all.

"Oh, I hope not." Noire says quietly. She's still not looking up at me.

"So uh, yeah…" I trail off. I don't have more to say. That's all I know about Noire off the top of my head. I'm sure the scramble conversations say more, but… "Oh, and your mother never taught you dark magic. That's it I think."

"I…" Noire takes a long, deep breath. Her hands come up to her chest, clenching her talisman. "Right."

"Is any of that accurate?" I ask hesitantly.

"THAT'S NOT FOR YOU TO KNOW!" She snaps. Her head whips up and her eyes burn into me. Her mouth contorts into an ugly snarl. "YOU ALREADY KNOW TOO MUCH! DO NOT TEST MY TOLERANCE!"

I fall backwards off the log in surprise. I know Noire has mood swings, I literally just told her that, but that doesn't mean I was any more prepared for it to happen. I hurriedly scramble to my feet and hope I don't look as nervous as I feel, but in all honesty my fear probably shows on my face.

Yes, I'm scared of Noire. I think we've already established confidence is not something I excel in. I've never been good with shouting, and shouting by someone who has a bow and daggers on hand is not better by any means.

Noire's outburst only lasts a second. Just as quickly as she snapped she shrunk in on herself and pulled all her limbs close. Her knees are up to her chin and her arms are around her legs. "S-Sorry…"

"It's fine." I say quickly. I sit back down, but my nervousness is obvious.

"If you aren't sure, I'd rather keep it that way." Noire mumbles. "It's personal, so…"

"I get it." I nod. That's incredibly frustrating, I'm even less sure how accurate my game knowledge is now, but it would be outright rude of me to try and insist she tell me.

Also she'd yell at me again and I say no thank you to that.

We lapse into silence for a minute until Morgan comes back. "You're next Noire." She says. Is it just me or does her voice sound slightly clipped? And I thought I was next.

Noire leaps to her feet and scurries off to the river without saying a word.

"So." Morgan drops her things at the end of the log and sits next to me on the log. "Why was she shouting at you?"

"She was just making a point." I say.

"By shouting?"

"Yes." I'm making this more confusing than it has to be. Just say it. "I stepped over a line I think. That's all."

"What line?"

"We were discussing what I know about her. I asked if any of it was accurate, and she shouted that it was none of my business because it was personal." I say.

"I see." Morgan says. Her expression is still carefully neutral. "And she had to establish this by shouting instead of talking because…?"

"Mood swing. Not totally in her control I think." I won't say more than that. It's not for me to go around sharing personal information. The only reason I'm mentioning this is because it's pertinent and not exactly a secret. It's only occurring to me now that, whether the Shepherds or I want it or not, I'm sort of a secret-keeper for every single one of them. To some more than others of course, but I know more about them than most of them are probably comfortable a stranger knowing about them. "Not for me to say more."

I can tell this is going to make me a _lot_ of friends… and by that I mean a lot of people aren't going to like me very much once they find out. Yay.

Morgan kicks her legs and gazes up to the sky. "Nathan."

"Yeah?"

"What do you know about _me_?" She asks. "I mean, I don't know anything about myself, so… I'm curious."

Ah, right, she's an amnesiac. "I can't vouch for how accurate the information is..."

"That's fine." Morgan stares at me intently now. "What do you know?"

"Well…" Where to start? I suddenly feel very pressured. "Your father is Robin, that never changes. You're a tactician. Your mother… is not Nowi, Nah, Tiki, nor Panne, else you would have distinct ears. Hair colour inheritance doesn't work the same way here so I can't help you beyond that. There's a very real possibility you have a sibling, as in the game kids come from the mothers with the exception of Robin and Chrom."

Morgan nods seriously. The mention of a sibling seems to worry her if the furrow of her brow is any indicator. I suppose I would be worried if I'd forgotten my own brother or sister as well.

"You have a selfish side that isn't above manipulating others for your own convenience and you aren't very apologetic about it. Actually, that's a large part of your character in the game. You're not too worried about your amnesia. It's an issue of course, but compared to most amnesiacs you really don't care that much. It's an inconvenience, not a crippling trauma. You're intelligent, but tend to miss the obvious sometimes." That's almost everything. I feel like there's something important… ah, right. "You're likely from a different future than the other future children."

"A _different_ future?"

"Yes." I say. "It's complicated. The epilogue claims you're probably from a different future than the others, but doesn't explain why. It's left up to the player to figure out why. From what I'm aware this might be because of a Days of the Future Past situation, where in the world the others came from you were possibly a _villain_ working under Grima, and in this other world you come from you aren't…? Again, it's not really clear, but you're the odd one out among the children as a side-effect of your father being who he is."

"Right." She frowns. "Okay, that's less than I expected."

"As I told Noire, I know some very specific things about you, but that's it. I only know as much as your theoretical interactions with others and a few tidbits from the game narrative." I say apologetically. "I don't know your past. The game is about a war, not exploring backstories."

She nods to herself and falls into silence. I hesitate for a second, then cautiously put an arm around her shoulder to try and comfort her to some extent. I can do that right? I think I can. Morgan leans against my side, so I guess that was an acceptable move.

"Erm… I might be able to narrow some things down if you can answer a question or two." I murmur. "It probably won't help too much, but it's something."

"Sure, anything."

"Do you have a brand? It could be anywhere. Skin, eyes, doesn't matter."

"No."

"Okay, so your mother is unlikely to be Lucina, Lissa, or whoever Chrom's other kid is." I say. "It's possible that your brand simply hasn't surfaced, but that's unlikely I think."

"So I'm not a royal."

"Not an _Ylissian_ royal." I say. "Jury's out on Chon'sin. Your mother could be Say'ri."

What else can I ask to narrow things down? I don't know.

"This is hard." I grunt. "I don't know how much you're going to share features with your mother. I don't know if your having light skin means your mother did too, or if your mother is someone like Flavia and you just happen to be white anyways. I suppose if I'm looking at it from the perspective that you should take _some_ features from your mother, then your mother is unlikely to be dark-skinned or Chon'sinese. You're very pale and don't have epicanthic folds on your eyes. I guess you aren't a royal at all then."

"But my hair-"

"Hair and eye color are weird. You can have completely different colour hair or eyes than your parents due to… recessive genes? I don't know exactly how it works and it's unlikely, but not so unlikely that it's never seen." I sigh. "I can't distinguish between the facial features of Ylissians and Plegians either, so I don't know if you have a distinct sign of one or the other."

"Why not?"

"Well… okay, so some Feroxi are very distinct from Ylissians due to their dark skin, right? Same goes for those from Chon'sin due to the distinct structure of their eyes. The differences between Ylissian and Plegian to me, an outsider, are going to be non-existent. I don't study phenotypes so I don't know what to look for." I admit. "There are likely differences, but they won't be obvious enough for me to notice."

It would be like the difference between Canadian and American. Physically, they're not going to be that different. You could probably tell the difference due to accent, but that's a vocal thing and not physical. I don't know if Plegian and Ylissian phenotypes are going to be _that_ similar, but just using game art as a reference I sure as hell can't tell distinguishing features.

"Heck, for all I know you're a Rosannite. It's really only Chon'sin and Ferox that stand out." I sigh. "Sorry, I guess I can't narrow it down as much as I hoped. There's still quite a few possibilities. Not Tharja, not the royals, not a manakete or taguel, and _probably_ not someone with dark skin, but that still leaves more than half the cast."

"Thanks for trying I suppose."

"Sorry." I mumble.

"Don't be. You didn't cause me to lose my memory." She sighs. "I wonder why that happened at all?"

"If this were the game I'd say plot convenience." I say. "You're the child of the avatar, and as the avatar is supposed to be somewhat of a blank slate and quite variable, they needed a backstory for you that could comply with any choice the player makes, so they threw you convenient amnesia. How that works here in-universe though… who knows. No one else lost memories coming to the past."

"I guess I'm just special then." She says. "The universe recognized my _greatness_ and had to put a limit on it somehow."

"Yep."

"Alas, the universe will be foiled for I am capable of making _new_ memories! Take that, universe!"

"I'm sure the universe is weeping in fear."

"As it should be!"

"I'm back…" Noire whispers from the edge of camp.

"Just in time to listen to my plan to make the universe weep!" Morgan proclaims loudly.

"Um…"

"Right, I'm going to wash up." I say. I pat Noire's back as I pass by. "Thanks for taking over."

Noire's eyes flick from Morgan's now grinning face to me. "Uh…"

"Be gentle Morgan!" I call as I leave for no other reason than to confuse Noire. I can hear Morgan laugh when I say that and hear Noire squeak "Wh-What's going on?" Mission accomplished I suppose. I've fulfilled my weirdness minimum for the day.

###

"Look at this innocent village, unprepared for the magnificence that is _me_." Morgan muses. "Soon I shall have them fawning over me as the grand tactician I am."

"An empire starts with a single town my lady." I say in as sinister a voice as I can manage. "With these fools under your control, you can begin the process of becoming queen."

"Yes! A crown and a cape!" Morgan proclaims. "The clothes make the man! When I become queen, I will pass my coat onto you, and you shall become the master tactician who expands my empire as I rule with an iron fist!"

"Of course my lady…" I smile. "Our conquest begins here."

Noire is hiding her face in her hands and likely wondering why Naga stuck her with us of all people.

We don't walk into town proclaiming our intent to conquer it of course. We instead locate a tavern so we can have actual beds for a night and then go around purchasing supplies. It's the next day that we actually go about exploring the town.

I should clarify, this isn't the second or third town we've come across. It's been a few weeks since we've left the town we spent the winter in and we've jumped from town to town in the meantime. The towns haven't been as far apart as the second was to the first. That really was an oddity. Maybe we took the wrong path and skipped a town.

Also, we've been sleeping in the tent we got when travelling between towns. It's big enough for all of us (not a lot of space, but enough). Originally I slept on the outer edge so I wasn't next to Noire and Morgan slept in the middle, but after Morgan rolled on top of Noire five or six times I started sleeping in the middle. Morgan really needs a weighted bedroll or something to stop her rolling around all the time.

Anyhow, on the next day we explore the town. More accurately: Morgan explores the town and I follow her while Noire decides to stay in the tavern and rest. The first thing Morgan does is go around asking for Kjelle, as we're hoping to run into her before we start heading south. To my surprise we _do_ get news about her. It's not from one of the locals, but a merchant who recognizes the name.

"Kjelle? You talkin' 'bout a girl in heavy armor, stubborn as a taxman with an ego to match, always goin' on 'bout being stronger an' all that?" The merchant asks.

"Sounds about right." I whisper to Morgan.

"Yep, that's the one. We're looking for her. Do you think you could point us to her?" Morgan chirps.

"Sure. She's just a few towns over. Go two days west to Northsnow, then three days south to Wolfwind. I have to warn ya, if yer plannin' on pickin' a fight with 'er, I don't expect ya to win."

"We aren't. She's a friend." Morgan says. I suppose that's not technically a lie. She's not _our_ friend, she's Noire's friend… or companion at least. I don't actually know if they're on good terms or not. "We got separated a while ago."

With our information obtained, we go on our way to… wander aimlessly. This town is a bit bigger than the farming and fishing villages we've been travelling between before, so there's some actual dedicated shops and businesses beyond the village basics. Morgan finds a store that sells potions, various plants, and charms... and spends nearly _two hours_ in conversation with the owner.

"Everyone think I am hack because of fakes." The woman says in frustration. Her name is Mariana. She's _extremely_ tall, about seven feet, with long and unkempt black hair that goes down to her waist, dark skin, and brown eyes. She might be intimidating if it weren't for the bright white flowers woven into her hair and the simple flower-patterned brown dress. I can't guess her age. She's not a child, but she's not obviously old. "Apparently is common in larger cities to sell fake charms. Little wooden trinkets with no magic. Sold to travellers or unknowing farmers promising protection. They claim a charm will bring rain or prevent wolf attacks, but charms not do that. Not unless you have much more expertise than I."

"But there _are_ charms that can bring rain?" Morgan questions.

"Yes, but they are inconvenient and expensive. Besides, charms always active, so for rain charm it _always_ rains. Not very useful. Charm that stops wolves is much more useful, but it need large range to be useful in protecting farm. Very magic-intensive, so very expensive to make." Mariana explains. "Impractical for me because I spend more money to make than I can get for sale. Instead make smaller charms. Charms that help stop illness, give a little protection from magic, help slow down hunger and thirst for the very poor… small things. Useful things, but small things."

"For charms that slow down hunger and thirst, how do you make a profit on those?" Morgan asks. "If the people buying them are usually poor, how do you make money off them?"

"I do not." Mariana says simply. "Those are only charms I sell at loss, because I do not sell _those_ charms to make profit. I sell those to help. I give them price because the poor have dignity. They do not want handouts, they want to feel like trade is fair, so I still charge price and pretend that hunger and thirst charms are very easy to make and say that is why they extra cheap."

I nod to myself upon hearing that. Yes, it's manipulation, but it's manipulation with the best of intent where the only issue in the first place was pride. Also, I think that might be something to note about Feroxi culture. The poor don't want handouts because of pride. Pride is more important than practicality to them. Death before dishonor and all that.

"I imagine the same goes for potions?" Morgan says. "Fake potions I mean."

"Yes." Mariana nods. "Not even vulnerary. So-called potions are herbs thrown in water. Sometimes even poisonous herbs! Fakes literally poisoning customers because they don't actually know herbs. Disappointment to craft."

"I can imagine." Morgan nods. "What sort of potions can you make?"

"Can make vulneraries of course." Mariana actually pulls out a few clay bottles (the one I have on my hip is metal). "Make my own bottles. More fragile than metal, but can charge less. Can make some medicines, but most people come to me for magic potions. Have potions that can help with magic resistance. Called pure water in Ylisse I think. Not pure, also not water. Strange name."

Morgan is enraptured, which is just as entertaining to me as what Mariana is actually saying.

"Can also make potions to give strength, help go faster, help focus… can do many things with potions." Mariana's mouth momentarily turns to a frown. "Often get questions about love potion. Love potion exist, and it work. I know how to make. But I think it is only bad people who ask for love potion."

"What?" Morgan frowns. "Why?"

"Because it's forceful manipulation. You are basically drugging someone." I say. "Right?"

"Correct." Mariana nods. "You understand."

"Ahh…" Morgan nods. "Okay, that makes sense. That never even occurred to me."

"You are child. Will learn."

"I'm eighteen!" Morgan protests.

Mariana blinks in surprise. "Small eighteen." She looks at me. "No lie?"

"It's true." At least I think it is. Maybe Morgan was lying to me right from the start, but I doubt it.

Mariana takes a deep breath and puts a hand on Morgan's head. Her expression is sad, almost comically so. I think she's being sarcastic. "Very sorry you skip growth. Don't have potion for that."

"I didn't skip it. It just hasn't happened yet." Morgan grumbles.

"It's supposed to start somewhere around twelve." I say cheerfully. "So you'd be _super_ late."

"Nathan…"

"Oh, and it's actually _earlier_ for girls, so-"

"Don't say any more!" Morgan barks. She's glaring at me now.

So, like the good friend I am, I don't say any more exactly as she asked. Instead I do what the Mariana did and sympathetically pat Morgan on the head.

Morgan's glare is withering, but I'm smug so I don't care. Judging by her nod, Mariana approves as well.

"Don't worry small adult woman child. I sure you grow. Just not on outside."

Morgan turns her glare to Mariana, and the woman's smile threatens to break her face.

Mariana doesn't pass up on an opportunity to poke fun at Morgan when we eventually leave. "Nathan! Be sure to water small woman every day or will not grow. Remove bad bugs and keep in sun. Eventually small woman will grow into slightly less small woman."

"Noted." I say with a serious nod.

"I hate both of you." Morgan grumbles.

We did buy things off Mariana (well, Morgan did. It's her money after all). Three vulneraries, a speed potion, a magic potion, and an anti-magic charm.

After I'm done teasing Morgan for being small, she hands the charm to me saying "you come from a place without magic, so I'm guessing your resistance is going to be terrible. Here you go."

I think I just got a gift. I got a gift. Huh. I mean, it's a practical gift, but it's still a gift. It feels unusual to get a gift not on my birthday or christmas.

"Nathan, you're staring." Morgan says. "Did I… offend you? Is that it?"

"No." I say quickly. "Just surprised, that's all."

"Surprised?" Morgan raises an eyebrow." About what?"

"I've…" Suddenly I'm beset by doubt. I'm assuming the charm is a gift of some sort, but maybe that's just because I'm overthinking it. I have been known to overthink things. It's basically been my defining characteristic so far. I might be reading into things too much. She just bought a charm because my resistance sucks. No other reason. "Nothing. Overthinking."

"Did I do something weird by the standards of your world?"

"No. Nothing usual." I say. "It's nothing."

"Alright…" Morgan obviously isn't convinced, but says nothing.

We split the vulneraries one each. Morgan keeps the magic potion and Noire is given the speed one. I wonder if they're the equivalent of tonics. That would make sense. I'm just going to call them a magic tonic and a speed tonic for simplicity.

Noire is relieved to learn that we're close to Kjelle. Soon she won't have to deal with me and Morgan by herself.

###

"So how do we want to do this?" I say nervously. "Do we just walk in…? Maybe Noire should lead? She actually knows Kjelle."

"Or we could go in and shout "hey bitch! We've got a job to do!"" Morgan suggests cheerfully.

"That's… let's not do that." I mutter.

"Worried I'll get cut down or something?" Morgan grins.

"Of course! You don't have much height left to lose after all."

"I am not that short!"

"That's only because you've been getting a lot of sun and drinking your water-"

"I'm not a plant!" She barks.

"Mariana begs to differ."

"Mariana isn't here right now." Morgan huffs. "So if you want to stay on my good side…"

"Oh, so you're going to stop talking to me over one joke?" I ask teasingly. "How _childish_."

Morgan pouts at me, recognizing she's lost. Besides, she doesn't really mind.

"Can we go in now?" Noire asks quietly. That effectively puts a stop to our usual banter, and we make the quick decision that Noire should lead as there's no guarantee Kjelle will even know who Morgan is.

We're standing in front of a fairly normal farmhouse. Apparently Kjelle's "master", the person helping her train, is a retired veteran of the Feroxi military who now lives as a farmer but will train anyone who asks so long as they agree to help around the farm.

So Kjelle has been living as a farmer alongside training for the last who-knows-how-long. I can't help but find the system this man has set up interesting. Extra labour in exchange for pseudo military training? The man gets help on the farm which takes the pressure off his family and gives them more free time (not to mention more money because they can support a bigger operation), the village gets a small militia of semi-skilled warriors, and the warriors get work, training, and a place to stay. When I heard Kjelle was training under her "master" in the game I assumed it was some sort of dojo or monastery, not a farm, but with this sort of system it makes total sense.

Noire knocks on the front door of the farm. I impulsively put a hand on Morgan's shoulder. It's not to keep her in place or anything, it's just to calm my nerves. Morgan glances back curiously, notices my worried expression, and leans back against me and tugs my other hand to her other shoulder.

I let out a deep breath and try not to grip her shoulders too hard. This should be fine. I shouldn't be nervous. Morgan is fine, see? Granted Morgan has a stupid amount of confidence and doesn't have extreme social anxiety, but it's fine. I'm not even the one who's going to be talking. Probably, maybe, hopefully.

As you might expect, Kjelle isn't the one who answers the door. This isn't _her_ house, and it's not like she knew we were coming. An unremarkable woman in simple tan and brown clothes answers the door. She really fits the generic female villager sprite. "Oh, hello. Are you here for training? My husband is in the back."

It's clear to me this is not unusual for her. She doesn't look surprised to see strangers at her door, and her words sound rehearsed.

"U-Um, n-no." Noire stutters nervously. "We're here to see Kjelle."

"Oh!" The woman blinks in surprise. "Well, that's a surprise. It's rare the trainees get visitors unless they're locals. Kjelle will be in the back too. Follow me. She'll most likely be doing repairs somewhere at the moment. It's too cold to plant crops you see."

She leads us around the back of the farmhouse. The land owned by the family seems huge to me, but then again I don't know what a normal farm plot size would be. Also, we're still on the fringes of the Feroxi… empirie? Kingdom? Khanate? The Feroxi Khanate I suppose. We're still in the less developed areas of the Feroxi Khanate, so I wouldn't be surprised if people out here own larger plots of land than people closer to large cities and the more developed areas of the country. More land, but less protection and less access to trading and such. It's a trade off.

I mean, I assume it's a trade off. I don't know medieval human geography. Is that even the right term? Human geography? Should I be saying Anthropology? Maybe archeology? But isn't anthropology more about behaviour than the mechanics of land distribution…? Ah, whatever. Sue me if I can't remember every -ology out there and what it means. The study of how land is allocated, specifically how it's allocated in relation to a smaller community's proximity to major population centers. That's what I'm talking about.

That would be a very specific study now that I think of it.

Actually… who's to say Kjelle will actually come with us? In the game she comes along because she compares her ring with Sully and realizes Sully is her mother (which means that Kjelle didn't recognize her mother on sight, which is weird to think about. How different did Sully look in the future?), so there's no guarantee she'll follow us at all with only the vague promise of probably finding her mother.

When we get around to the back of the farmhouse, the woman doesn't send us out into the field to find Kjelle. She simply cups her hands to her mouth and yells "KJELLE! YOU HAVE VISITORS!"

Noire jumps at the loud noise, and if I weren't still holding on to Morgan I would too.

"She'll just be a second." The woman sighs. "Gotta finish up whatever my husband assigned her."

The woman leaves us after that, going back inside to… do something. Cook? Sew? Something less stereotypical? Who knows! I'm not looking through the window so I sure don't.

It takes about five minutes for Kjelle to get to a resting point where she can make her way over to us. I never realized how small she looks outside of her armor. She's not skinny or anything, she has some serious muscle, but she's much shorter than I expected and doesn't have a lot of bulk per say. Not skinny, but slim. Her hair is jet black just like Noire's, and she has shockingly delicate features broken up only by a few small scars.

"Noire?" Kjelle says. "I'll admit, you're not someone I expected to see. I'm surprised you managed to find me. Ferox is a big place."

"We sort of… cheated." Noire explains. She has a nervous grin on her face and turns to us pleadingly.

Realizing she wants me to explain and that I'll actually have to talk, I clear my throat and speak. "I have outside knowledge. I knew approximately where you were beforehand, and we used that to narrow the search area."

"Oh really?" Kjelle turns to face me, her eyes narrowing. "Any why would _you_ know anything about me, much less my whereabouts, stranger?"

"I'm an outrealmer." I say simply, hoping that suffices as an explanation. That explanation is also technically not true, but whatever, I can clarify later. "I know certain things about this world, foremost being where you future children will approximately be located."

"So you're familiar with our situation."

"Yes."

"And why, exactly, do you have an interest in it? Simple goodwill?"

"Nothing so altruistic." I say honestly. "I'm woefully under-equipped to survive in this world as I never intended on being stuck here, so in exchange for my information I get to tag along and not die." I pat Morgan on the shoulder. "Mostly I'm just ingratiating myself to this one."

"Hi! I'm Morgan! The soon-to-be best tactician to ever exist." Morgan says cheerfully. "I'm one of you, sorta. From a different future maybe, but one of you. Oh, and I'm an amnesiac. Are you my sister?"

Kjelle is unfazed by Morgan's rapid-fire speech. "No, I'm not your sister. I've never heard of someone called Morgan. How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't!" Morgan says cheerfully.

"Outside information." I say again with an apologetic smile. " _I_ know it's true, and they're taking my word with it."

"How can I trust _you're_ not lying to me?" Kjelle asks suspiciously. "That you're not lying to all of us?"

I sigh, step forward, and lower my voice. "Your mother never taught you to ride a horse, using the excuse that you lacked natural talent. You basically never stop training, and you have a bit of an obsession with armor. You have a particular fondness for a particular set of armor you wore in your first battle that is oversized on you, and you like to put it back on because it feels comfortable, reassuring even."

Kjelle stares at me for a solid five seconds. Then, in a quiet voice she says. "How do you know that?"

"Outside information."

"Right." She takes a deep, surprisingly shaky breath. "That's really creepy you know."

"Yeah… sorta got that impression from talking with Noire about what I know about her." I mutter. "But yeah, I know things. Only specific things, but things. Including vaguely where to find all you future kids."

"Vaguely?"

"The map doesn't exactly have town names or roads or anything. I'm talking about dots on a world map with maybe some location clues like 'wyvern valley' or 'desert'." I say. "Oh, and I know the general scenario they'll be in. I knew you would be training under a master of some sort, and I knew Noire would be dealing with slavers."

"Slavers?" Kjelle says, and frowns. "I hope you dealt with them."

"There was three of us, above twenty of them, and Nathan doesn't really fight." Morgan says curtly. "No, we didn't fight them. We're not suicidal."

Kjelle's mouth presses into a line. She doesn't like that response, but she can't argue without looking like an ass. "So you just left them to keep operating?"

"Yes." Morgan says simply. "We told the town guard where we found them of course, but no one in the area was really equipped to deal with the situation. It's unfortunate, but there was little to be done."

Kjelle shakes her head. "I disagree."

"Well good for you. If you want to go off and die trying to take on twenty slavers with a group of three people, be my guest." Morgan says curtly. "In the meantime, we're headed for Ylisse to find more of us and hopefully our parents too."

Kjelle half sneers half grimaces at Morgan's words. It's an expression of general unhappiness and malcontent that seems very fitting on her face.

"You're welcome to come along if you won't sneer the entire time." Morgan says. Her tone is haughty and authoritative now, making it very clear that _she_ is in charge of our little group and if Kjelle wants to come along Kjelle be listening to _her_.

"Not sure I want to if this is how it's going to be." Kjelle sneers back.

Noire wrings her hands in frustration. "Kjelle, please…"

"Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot." I say, attempting to salvage the situation. "Regardless of our disagreement on how we should have handled a _past_ situation, we still have a common goal, don't we? And with you coming along Kjelle, we would be more well-equipped to deal with such situations in the future."

Kjelle glares at me, but it's not total hostility. My words registered, she's just not totally convinced.

Perhaps understanding being confrontational wasn't helping, Morgan also changes tactics. "It wasn't that we didn't _want_ to help, we just didn't have the power to. Our numbers were insufficient. Tactics and strategy can only make up for so much, and at the end of the day we're even less useful if we're dead."

Kjelle glares a bit more, but sighs in resignation. "Fine. I still don't agree, but fine. I'll come along, but _I'm_ in charge."

"Hell _no_." Morgan says cheerfully. "I'm a tactician, and Nathan is the closest to knowing where we're going."

"Noire?" Kjelle says. "Who do you think should be in charge?"

Noire is not exactly happy about having to choose a side, and it's a bit of a relief when she points to Morgan. Kjelle seems a bit miffed, but relents seeing she's been outvoted.

"Fine then. A good knight knows when to stay in line." Kjelle mutters. "I'll _defer_ to you until we find Lucina."

"Lucina?" Morgan frowns. She glances at me. "Who's that again? You've mentioned her."

"Chrom's kid. One of them anyway." I say. "Leader of the future kids."

"Right." Morgan nods. "Cool, that's fine."

"But I have to finish up my duties here. I won't just abandon my master at an inconvenient time." Kjelle says. "You may have to wait."

"We're in no real rush. That's fine." Morgan nods. "We're staying at the Grey Rabbit. Drop by there when you want to find us I suppose. We'll wait."

Kjelle nods curtly and returns back to her duties. We take that as a sign to leave and make our way back into town.

###

Kjelle needs to stay for an additional month, so we settle into town for a bit. Well Kjelle doesn't _need_ to stay, her master said she could leave immediately if she wanted to, but Kjelle doesn't want to feel like she's abandoning a job halfway through and we're not in any real rush all things considered (if we're near endgame there's not much we can do anyways, and if not we likely have a year or so if not more if we haven't even hit the timeskip yet).

Incidentally, I _have_ been asking for news in each village we reach, but we're on the fringe of the country and so far away from any action that it's rare news actually reaches up here. So I have no idea if the Ylisse-Plegia war has happened or is currently happening, or if the world is in the Valm arc yet. Who knows what's happened! I'm currently acting under the tenuous assumption that the Valm arc hasn't started yet based on the location we found Noire. Usually Noire's paralogue happens on the total east end of Ferox, not the west end where we found her. Noire's paralogue opens up after you get Lucina, who you get at the end of the second chapter of the Valm arc. Ergo, I think the Valm arc hasn't started yet, but is very close.

Actually, why didn't the slavers have any griffon riders? Usually they have griffon riders. Was that even the same slaver group?

That's also assuming the world acts according to the game timeline of course. Maybe I'm totally wrong and Chrom hasn't even found Robin yet. That would be weird, but it could happen.

I really hope we don't find the Shepherds before they've even found Robin. That would make for a lot of explaining. Heck, it will take a lot of explaining if we find them before Lucina has revealed herself. We don't have the convenient proof of the brand of the Exalt on us.

Actually, maybe Kjelle does. Chrom can marry Sully right? I should ask her next time we see her.

In the meantime we relax. I was worried about our money until Morgan informed me that she had enough money to support all three of us for half a year if we need it. Not that we can waste money exactly, but we aren't immediately pressed.

I also make sure to pass on a warning to Kjelle's master about his death at the hands of… was it Cassady? Cassius? I think it was Cassius. From what Kjelle passes back, my warning doesn't change anything. If he dies trying to free a hostage, he'll have died honorably and he sees no shame in that. Not that he's going to lay down and die exactly, he can prepare now that he knows it's coming, but he's absolutely still going to confront Cassius.

Again, there's that familiar concept. Honor. Pride. _Stupidity_. Maybe I'm being a bit too mean, but it's hard not to sneer at someone who thinks "a fight I probably won't win and will die if I try to fight, and there's no reason for me to not back off and get help? Guess I'll die anyways to not mildly disappoint myself despite the fact that I know several people will miss me."

Or maybe his preparation will be enough and I'm being unnecessarily cruel. Who knows?

Anyhow, with a month to kill me and Morgan do the logical thing and burn down a forest. By that I mean we hunt, partially for food so we don't have to buy it all and partially so I can get practice with my crossbow. When I inevitably fail to hit something with my crossbow Morgan blows it out of the sky or off its feet with elfire so we don't lose prey because of my incompetence. It's from this hunting practice that I start to understand the issues with my current crossbow design… or more accurately the bolts. The bolts are small enough that they don't stay straight when being shot out of the crossbow. Sometimes they even scrape the side of the… barrel? What would I call that part? The chute? The furrow that the arrows follow when they're being shot, that thing. It has scrapes now because the bolts were too small. I spend some time trying new bolts over the month to find something that works better.

Anyhow, you can guess why we almost start a forest fire when we're using elfire to kill wildlife. It's only thanks to the remaining snow on the pine needles that the entire forest doesn't go up when Morgan's spell unexpectedly lights a tree on fire and catches the pine needles causing a suddenly massive fire that burns down the whole tree in minutes, and by some miracle doesn't jump to other trees.

It's a shame no one in the town sells tomes, because Morgan would gladly buy a thunder or wind tome after that near disaster.

Noire mostly keeps to herself. She also hunts, but she does so alone because me and Morgan just don't have her stealth. Otherwise she simply disappears for most of the day and returns for dinner. Morgan gave her some money to do with as she wished, like an allowance, so I assume that's getting used but I have no idea on what. It's not like there's dedicated entertainment here in a small town. Maybe she has work?

Speaking of work, seeing as I have a lot of free time and basically nothing to spend it on when not following Morgan around, I make a quick buck helping with simple labour. There's an old widow who lives on the edge of town who I end up working for. She mostly lives off support from the community as she's far too old to be doing labour. The money I get from her is honestly negligible considering what Morgan has, it amounts to a single silver, and that's probably because the old woman was _generous_ considering the fact that most farmers make less than that a month, but it's _my_ money that I didn't have to rely on Morgan to get. I'm not totally helpless in this world, I can do something. It's not yet enough for survival, but it's a start.

I have to start planning for eventually being on my own. If I can't get out of this world, I need some sort of skill that can make me money. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. I know Morgan said she'd help me, but it would be rude and lazy to expect her to solve my problems for me.

In the time she spends by herself, Morgan spends a lot of time with the crude figurines she made going over combat scenarios and figuring out how to work with the four of us. From watching her do this on occasion I note that I've been assigned the figurine of a warrior. Not a fighter, not a barbarian, a warrior. I guess that's what I am actually. I have an axe and a bow just like a warrior. Morgan also tends to sit my figurine in the back alongside Noire, or else sometimes I'm absent entirely.

I appreciate that Morgan is keeping me out of the fights when possible, but I worry that it's going to bite us to have three backliners and only Kjelle in the front. Hopefully we won't have to fight at all, but I have a feeling Kjelle is going to drag us into at least one battle. As much as I don't want to get stabbed, I… no, no, never mind. I really don't want to get stabbed. Everyone else in the group is at least a semi-seasoned warrior, and I am not, and I do not intend to be.

Cowardly? Yes. But I never pretended I wasn't. I know when I read stories that go the way my experience has so far, you know, those self-insert/isekai type stories, the main character always ends up walking into a war or taking on a grand quest… well fuck that. War sucks and fighting sucks, and that's because you can fucking _die_ , get crippled, or just get hurt, and I make a point of avoiding pain as much as possible. All you other self-insert nutcases can go around with your magic and enchanted weapons and get nearly killed half a dozen times and be in horrible pain. I'll sit in the back with my crossbow until we have enough people that I don't even have to participate anymore, and hopefully never suffer more than a scratch. I'll help the Shepherds with my vague future sight and never enter a proper battle.

That's the plan anyways.

I wonder if Morgan's battle simulations are based on a war game, or if she's making up results as she goes. It would be fun to learn a war game. That's something I can get on board with. Board games are eternal. I'll learn later though, when we're _not_ mildly conserving money and when I actually have the space in my pack to carry a game (right now I can't keep too much because whenever I piggyback Morgan or Noire they have to carry both our packs).

Without a calendar, time seems to pass very slowly to me. I feel like much more than a month has passed, but it's been only a few weeks. I know because Kjelle stops by the tavern once a week to talk to us. Well, talk with Noire specifically. She still doesn't really like Morgan, and I don't think she trusts me.

With a combination of the work I was doing and using what we hunt to feed ourselves sometimes so we don't have to pay for every meal, we don't break even by any extent, but we save enough money to be worth our while.

I say that like Morgan's fifty plus gold can't support us for _years_ if it needed to.

It's weird to think that one gold is a large amount of money in this world. Most farmers and the people we've come across count their monthly income in copper or maybe silver (and usually silver if they're a blacksmith or some skilled trade, in which case they need to buy food whereas farmer's don't, so their effective income is actually not that much higher if higher at all). Morgan is _absurdly_ rich by comparison. It's not an understatement to say that Morgan probably has more money on her than the entire town combined.

That begs the question how she got so much money to begin with. Morgan obviously doesn't know, and neither do I. She had to come to this world for _some_ reason, so she's probably from a ruined future. Maybe she just amassed it from looting Risen corpses? Maybe she planned ahead for arrival in this world and snagged money from somewhere? It would be easier to do that second thing I imagine because there would be no real use for gold in a ruined world, so it would be easier to get her hands on actual gold because everyone else is concerned about things like food and armor.

There's so much theory crafting I could do about how Morgan got her money, but it's not worthwhile. We'll never know why. Plus, for all I know Morgan was sent here as an agent of Grima and got her memory wiped by chance, and the money was from Grima themself to help her minion get established. There's so many random possibilities that I can't even make an educated guess.

It's a relief when Kjelle is finally done with her work and we get on the road again. I much prefer travelling to doing menial labour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tackling the issue that Nathan knows uncomfortable information in this chapter, as well as Morgan trying to figure out more about herself and getting Kjelle's recruitment out of the way. Also some more world-building both in terms of conveying information on how the world works. Mariana was fun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wish I was better at taking notes, because I'm sure there's some plot threads I'm going to completely forget about at some point. On an unrelated note, Kjelle is now a part of the group and I have no idea what I'm doing.
> 
> Well, okay, I have an outline. So not no idea.

As soon as we start travelling it becomes clear our group is effectively split in two pairs: Me and Morgan, and then Noire and Kjelle. Noire and Kjelle aren't exactly close, it's just that Kjelle is less weird to Noire than Morgan and especially me so it's obvious why Noire sticks around Kjelle. It's me and Kjelle that act as the two extremes of the group that never interact. Morgan and Noire will sometimes speak with the other side, but me and Kjelle rarely interact.

Also, Kjelle has her own tent, so now she and Noire share that one and me and Morgan share the one we got.

Kjelle is also just as much of an ass as I expected. She scoffs the first time she sees me give Morgan. Perhaps due to not taking rides as often, Noire can manage the long walks on her own now, which is something Kjelle loudly praises in an obvious jab at Morgan (though much to Noire's consternation, as she doesn't want to be a point of conflict).

Still, despite Kjelle being Kjelle, things don't change all that much. I still sing a lot, me and Morgan still have spontaneous roleplay moments, Noire still watches us from the sidelines with a side-eye and the occasional shake of her head, and Noire still rarely actually speaks to anyone.

The one change that does happen is dedicated training time. Kjelle insists on having it for herself every night, and Morgan agrees that it would be best if all of us made some effort to improve.

Kjelle makes yet another snide remark about us being lazy before, and the rest of us ignore her. Ignoring Kjelle entirely has become very common. I wonder when she'll get the hint and stop talking.

Training sucks just as much as I expected it to. Crossbow practice isn't too bad, but training with my axe is awful.

Some people take satisfaction from the exhaustion and burning muscles after training. I am not one of those people. It's an irritation I'd rather not deal with. Everyone else doesn't seem to mind so much. Kjelle takes (loud) pride in her effort, and Morgan does often give a satisfied nod or smile when she's done training with her sword (she doesn't want to overwork her tome). Noire goes about training with silent focus, practicing not only with her bow but also a dagger. There's a sort of solemn seriousness to Noire's practice. I'm not good enough at reading people to make a guess at why that would be, and I don't feel comfortable asking about it.

Sometimes, very rarely, there is sparring. I usually refuse to participate on the principle that I have no idea what I'm doing (unless Morgan coaxes me into it, generally so she can help me understand the fundamentals of combat, in those cases it's less sparring and more instruction). Kjelle seems to flip-flop between intensely wanting to spar and scoffing that she wouldn't spar with people so weak. She's effortlessly stronger than the rest of us… though I think that's only because Morgan won't use her magic. She doesn't have a training tome (apparently those exist), so any elfire she used would be the real deal.

Incidentally, Morgan has explained how tomes work to me. The best metaphor I can make is that they're like a computer and the mage is the battery and operator. The mage provides the power and works the keys (manipulating the different parts of the book through magic so the spell does and goes where the mage wants it to), and the book pumps out a result from those inputs. Tomes can also "overheat". If you use one too much or put too much power into a spell, you'll degrade the systems within it (the mana will strain the diagrams and spell circles inside) until it eventually stops working. Something else interesting about magic is that if you were an expert you could cast elfire without a tome and have it be mostly the same, but it would take an incredible amount of focus and skill. What tomes do is allow you to use less mana on spells by making spellcasting waste less of your energy via energy efficiency, _not_ power amplification. Tomes don't add any extra power (for the most part. Some expensive high-level tomes do), they just allow you to cast the spell more effectively without the need for five times as much training.

It's like using a calculator versus doing an equation by hand. Same result, less effort.

Combat tomes are designed to be disposable so they can be made cheap for armies to buy in bulk. Other tomes, such as ones for more mundane tasks that don't require lots of power, are designed to hold up for longer and can survive centuries of daily use.

Sorry, back to sparring. Kjelle wins mostly even when she doesn't wear armor. Her fervent training does indeed pay off. Sometimes Morgan can abuse how predictable Kjelle is and win through careful counter-attacks, a feint, or a bait, but more often than not Kjelle takes advantage of her long reach with her spear and wins without taking a hit. Noire doesn't really stand a chance when using her dagger, but she spars anyways to learn from her mistakes.

I spar with Noire once or twice using my axe against her dagger, and she easily beats me. She's fast, accurate, and has quick reflexes. I have none of that, and so despite my superior reach thanks to long arms and a larger weapon, I lose quickly each time.

To spar safely we've crafted wooden weapons. Our rough woodworking skills are more than enough to make crude, if extremely poorly balanced, practice weapons.

Long story short, I hate training and sparring. It sucks and I'm bad at it. It is interesting to watch the sparring matches though. Also, I like the smug look on Morgan's face whenever she does manage to beat Kjelle. It's… cute? Is that the term I'm going with? Sure, cute. That's much less embarrassing than saying hot.

###

"A bit far off the beaten path to be travelling with yer prizes, flat face."

Considering how prevalent the issue seems to be in the worlds of Fire Emblem, bandits, brigands, whatever you want to call them, were an inevitable encounter. Perhaps I should have been expecting this. The first thing I say is not a threat or a warning though. It's a question: "Flat face?"

Noire tugs my sleeve and whispers, "Racial slur. He thinks you're Valmese."

Ah, okay. So apparently my current body looks Valmese. Good to know. "flat face" must be in reference to the small nose and rather unpronounced eye ridge. At least, that's what I think.

Look, I'm not super knowledgeable about the distinguishing features of certain races, so I don't actually know. I'm guessing here. If it's not skin color or epicanthic folds, I really can't identify phenotypic markers nor do I really care to. Maybe the slur is totally inaccurate to the actual distinguishing features of Valm's population's predominant phenotypic traits.

I've never been the target of a slur before, coming from a rather privileged place, so this is a new experience. I'm not sure if I'm shocked or just mildly amused at the cartoonish level of racism here. He's like a bigot in a kid's show to be berated into submission for the obvious message of "Don't be racist", except he also has an axe.

Also, I'm assumed to be in charge by this guy. Probably because I look the oldest, and also because I'm male. Probably, maybe. I'm not going to ask because it doesn't matter, because he's probably going to die. Good to know sexism is alive and well though.

"Every path around here looks beaten. I didn't realize there _was_ a main path." I say as calmly as possible. My heart is actually pounding in my chest, and I'm trying to keep my legs from trembling. "Maybe you could point us in the right direction then?"

I'm aware that Morgan, who is standing next to me, is slowly turning around to study the trees around us, likely looking for where the rest of this man's group is (because you know he wouldn't confront us alone). I'm going to try and stall as long as possible to let Morgan figure out what we need to do.

"Sure I can." The man says with a too-wide grin. "I just need a bit o' compensation for my efforts. I'm a poor man you see."

"Gladly. We can spare some copper." I nod. I pointedly avoid saying "gold". Best to try and conceal our wealth. Maybe if he thinks we're poor he won't waste the effort on us… though I think he's more interested in the girls than our money.

Hey, I can hope.

"I want something other than copper." He says.

Really dragging this out, aren't you? Apparently he has a flare for the dramatic. That's fine with me. More time for Morgan to work. "Well I can do some woodworking if you need help with something. I'm not the most skilled, but-"

"You really don't get it, do you?" He chuckles.

No, I understand exactly what you want, and you're proving what a terrible tactician you are by wasting the element of surprise on banter. "Get what? Money? Yeah, we're not the richest." That's a nonsense answer if I've ever given one, and also untrue. Well, it's true for _me_ , not so much Morgan.

I imagine Kjelle is getting impatient. It's a wonder she hasn't charged at the man already. I want to look over my shoulder at her, but I feel like it's a bad idea to take my eyes off this guy.

"Are you stupid?" The man asks.

"Probably." I nod. Yes, I am. Less so than you, but yes. " _Come on Morgan, any time now. He's going to get to the point eventually_."

"Come on..." The man growls, dropping his facade. I think he was really enjoying trying to terrorize us until I played dumb and ruined it. "Look, idiot, just give me the girls."

"But why?" I frown, knowing full well why he wants them. "They're mine. It took me a long time to gather them. I don't want to spend time finding more."

If I'm not imagining things I think I hear Morgan muffle a laugh. If she's laughing at me, the situation must not be too bad. Relief washes over me and I relax and settle into whatever this persona is becoming.

"I had to go to Plegia for this one." I say, gesturing to Noire who stiffens in surprise. " _Plegia_. Do you know how hot that place is? It's awful."

"What the… are you some sort of slave trader?" The bandit asks. He looks genuinely confused now, and I love it.

"I am a _collector_." I huff, feigning affrontement. "Don't lump me in with my suppliers."

Noire is staring at me. I'm not sure if that's shock, disgust, or amazement on her face. Maybe all three?

"I can't give up my collection so easily!" I say, and straighten my back and hold my head high. "I spent good money on these girls. These cute faces don't come cheap!" I could probably say something more vulgar, but for Noire's sake I won't. She's probably already embarrassed by all this. "If you want them, you'll need to pay _quite_ the high price. I won't give one of them out for simple _directions_ my good sir."

I could probably pull this act off better if I had a pretentious coat or something rather than my brigand furs. If I'd known I would have to put on this persona I would have bought an appropriately pretentious coat.

"And this one!" I gesture to Kjelle. "Do you know how hard it was to find a woman who can wear full metal armor and wield a spear yet still has a nice face? That sort of high quality woman is hard to come by!"

This act is getting more absurd by the minute, and I love it. I imagine Kjelle does not love it, and I think I hear her growl when I call her a "high quality woman". Sorry Kjelle, if Morgan wasn't busy I'd use her. She'd find this fun.

"My good sir, you must ask something _reasonable_ in exchange for directions, or else offer up something equal in exchange." I huff while straightening my coat. This will almost certainly bring an end to the discussion. I've done my part. Hopefully that's enough. "So unless you have something to offer or will take my copper, you'll have to excuse us."

The brigand snarls at me and raises his voice. "Boys! Get-"

He's abruptly cut off by Noire shooting him in the throat. She took the time to ready her bow while I was wrapping up my act.

Apparently seeing their leader shot down isn't enough to deter the rest of the group, because they all come rushing out of the forest in two teams… one of which almost instantly gets annihilated by Morgan's magic. Grouping up against magic doesn't end up well, just like crowding around a grenade wouldn't.

That leaves us with only seven people to deal with, which I'd dare say is easy due to the fact that three out of four of our group actually know what they're doing. Morgan's voice whips out, sharp and audible, and she quickly dishes out orders. "Kjelle, keep them at a distance with your spear, don't rush in! Noire, Nathan, shoot anyone who tries to get around!"

And so we do just that. Kjelle wards off most of the brigands with large swipes of her spear (usually backing up in the process so they can't rush her), while me and Noire (mostly Noire) shoot the two guys who try to go around Kjelle. Morgan then ends the fight by incinerating the five other brigands with another elfire.

The whole fight is maybe ten seconds long starting from when Noire shot the leader. It's impressive what a small group of skilled soldiers can do… or maybe it's just impressive how effective basic training actually is, because I doubt those brigands had any.

I quickly turn away from the corpses. I've done fairly well ignoring the few deaths that have happened so far. It's simple to put them aside when everyone we've come up against are engaged in blatantly immoral acts. Slave traders, bandits… it's easy to put their deaths out of mind. Mostly.

It doesn't make looking at their dead bodies any more fun though.

Noire and Morgan are quick to loot the bodies, pulling out money pouches, weapons, and trinkets. Kjelle less so, but this is probably the first time she doesn't take issue with something we do. She nods approvingly at the evidence of our efficiency, even giving an approving look to Noire and a calculated but not scornful glance at Morgan. There might even be a bit of respect in that look.

And then she turns to me. Her expression turns to… something. Something critical. "Why do you look so ill? Don't tell me you don't think they should have died."

Well, there is always the chance that some of them could have been talked down. The leader did say that they were pretty poor. It doesn't excuse them by any means, but… "Well, there's always _some_ grey area, but no, they probably got what was coming to them."

"Don't be ridiculous. They were would-be rapists, they didn't even try to hide the fact." Kjelle says bluntly. "There's no "grey area" to speak of."

"In that sense, sure." I agree. "I'm not arguing that they were in the wrong here. There's no two ways about it. The grey area lies in their situation more than anything. They were poor, and there's a good chance their situation pushed them towards banditry…"

"That doesn't justify anything."

"No." I agree. "It doesn't. It does explain why it happened though."

"Why should we care about that?" Kjelle huffs. "They tried to do something terrible, so we killed them. Simple."

"Simple if we only care about the present and not the issues surrounding the situation." I say. "Which, at the moment, is what we're doing I suppose."

"Then why bring up the greater scope at all?"

"Habit." I mutter. "Don't like seeing people brush over the greater scope to justify their actions. Far too common where I come from."

"That happens?"

"All the time." I nod. "I've seen a lot of news about people who are in dire straits, desperate because they don't have the resources to legally deal with certain problems, treated as evil by authorities because they were doing something wrong at the time with no consideration given as to _why_ they were doing it. In hindsight it doesn't really apply here so much, so… my bad."

Kjelle's mouth purses. It's not a frown, but it's not not something positive either. "Look, we're not councilmen here. We have issues to deal with _now_. We're soldiers. Let the council sort that big picture stuff."

"That's the exact mindset I'm taking issue with." I say. "You can justify some really dubious actions with that logic."

"Ugh…" Kjelle's face contorts into an annoyed snarl. "So what? You'd have me engage in a debate with those bandits instead?"

I shake my head. "No, of course not. I'd just have you be aware of the greater scope so you can use your logic when situations less clear cut _do_ happen."

"Wow, thanks for bestowing your _otherworldly knowledge_ upon me, _teacher_." She says with obvious disdain.

Okay, yes, I came across as a bit preachy, but I'd hope she sees I have a point. Hmm… I am assuming I'm right here, I'd like to think for a good reason, but I am making an assumption. That said: "Mock me if you want, but I'd like to think I have a decent point. Unless you're taking issue with my logic, in which case I'll happily try to explain it-"

"No, please don't." Kjelle growls. "Look, fine, we both agree the bandits needed to die, right."

"Yes…"

"So let's stop there."

I think stopping there is fundamentally missing the point I was trying to make, but Kjelle clearly doesn't want to listen so there's no point pushing the issue. "Fine."

"Next issue then. You looked ill. Why?"

I don't see how this is an issue, but… "Well I'm not exactly fond of seeing people die, or looking at their corpses."

"Not much of a soldier then, are you? Are you green?"

"Well I'm not a soldier at all." I say. "Are you just here to be an ass? If that's the case, you can leave."

Kjelle stands firm. "You're not a warrior?"

"No." Did I never tell her that? Wait, why should I have to tell her that? Why is this important?

"Ugh." Kjelle groans. She rubs her forehead. "Why are you even coming along then?"

What sort of question is that? "Because all of you are the only people I recognize and somewhat trust in a world where I am woefully under-equipped to survive? I thought we already established this."

"You did in the sense that you said you never planned on being here and were clinging to Morgan's goodwill to survive out of selfishness."

"Well yeah, that's the same thing as what I just said."

"No, it's not. You said you trusted us." Kjelle says firmly.

"Well yeah. I- uh, did I ever explain that you guys are from a game in my world?"

Kjelle crosses her arms. "Not to me."

Considering we've been at odds, I guess I never got around to explaining that to her. No surprise there. I'm not going to explain something personal to someone I don't like. That's basically a free ticket to being mocked, and I do _not_ think Kjelle is the sort of person not to capitalize on that.

"Well long story short you guys are from a game in my world, specifically you're part of the protagonist group and eventually join the Shepherds so I know I can generally trust you to do the right thing. I know enough about you all that I can be reasonably sure you won't kill me or leave me to die." I try to explain. "That's what I meant by clinging to Morgan's goodwill. I know she's reasonably heroic enough to put up with me and not cast me aside to die out of irritation. All of you are like that… probably."

"So you're grasping at straws and preying on our goodwill."

"Absolutely."

"That's kinda pathetic."

"Yep."

"You're shameless."

"Yep again." I say. "Was there a point to this conversation…?"

"Aaaand I think that's a good time to get moving again, don't you?" Morgan says with exaggerated cheerfulness and grabs my arm and pulls me away.

"We're not done." Kjelle replies firmly. "Give us a moment Morgan."

Morgan narrows her eyes. "If you're just going to insult him and bicker, then no, in that case we're going to leave."

"I- fuck." Kjelle grits her teeth and stomps a foot with hands clenched. "I'm not. Look, I keep getting off track. Just let me say my bit."

Morgan looks at me. "Your call. This involves you."

"I'll hear her out." I say reluctantly. I feel obliged to. If I talk about always seeing the bigger picture, I have to listen to all sides. That's how you get to see the bigger picture.

It also occurs to me that saying "hear her out" makes it sound like I'm assuming I'm some sort of higher authority… or maybe I'm reading too much into it and arbitrarily second-guessing my own words.

Morgan reluctantly stands back (alongside a _very_ uncomfortable Noire who is doing her best to ignore this whole situation) and watches from a distance with her arms crossed. Kjelle obviously knows she's going to be intensely scrutinized and judged, and takes a moment to compose herself.

I've never wanted to be _out_ of a social situation more than this moment.

"Look." Kjelle says slowly. "I want to be a knight. I'm trying to live by knightly ideals. That means never backing down from evil, being strong, and being disciplined. You can't do that if you're not absolutely sure you're doing the right thing at all times. An indecisive knight is a dead knight."

I nod silently, showing that I understand. I don't agree necessarily, but I understand the viewpoint.

"To me, you look… _looked_ like basically the worst case scenario." Kjelle explains. "Someone needy, weak, and manipulative who was attaching themself to a group of warriors in an attempt to make themself look better."

Morgan is still listening to this, and she is very unsubtle in how she's now glowering at Kjelle.

"And you're still some of those things as far as I can tell." Kjelle says. "Most of them, except the last part. That's why I care whether you're a warrior or not. If you pretended you were, then you were exactly as bad as I assumed you were. You didn't pretend to be what you weren't, even if you are _disappointing_ in my eyes."

Okay, that's fair enough.

"I- gah, no, that's not right." Kjelle growls. "You're… you're…"

"Uncomfortable to see?"

"Yeah."

"Because I'm weak and kinda useless and yet you feel obliged to let me tag along despite that because you know I need all of you?"

"Close." Kjelle agrees reluctantly. "I don't like that you don't seem to _care_ that you're useless and weak."

Okay, now _that_ is a fair criticism. For what I know about Kjelle and her sort-of strength obsession; it makes total sense she'd hate my whiny-but-indifferent attitude towards my situation that I don't seem to be doing anything about. That's mostly because I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing in this world, but Kjelle doesn't know that.

"So that's my gripe." Kjelle says. "I don't like how you conduct yourself, and your ideals are totally counter to what I'm trying to be."

"Right." I say slowly. I actually feel a lot more comfortable now with her grievances out in the open. "That's all fair enough I suppose. I don't particularly want to be a warrior, so I'll definitely agree that I don't care that I'm weak. My uselessness _is_ something I want to deal with, it's just a matter of me figuring out how at the moment. I can't say I agree with your ideals either. To me, you look somewhere between a patronizing protector, might-makes-right well-intentioned extremist, and someone with blind faith in law and the enforcers of the law. Basically I think you have good intentions, but are blind to the consequences and implications of your intentions as they are currently."

Yes, I just phrased my opinion of Kjelle almost entirely in terms of tropes. That's the simplest way I can think of to phrase my thoughts.

"So that's why you insisted on talking about grey area." Kjelle mutters. "You think I'm stupid."

"Pretty much." I admit bluntly. It feels weird to not dance around these almost-insults and just say them. "Well, maybe the term "uncritical" is more accurate. Stupid is a bit harsh."

"Don't try to be polite." Kjelle grumbles. "You're making me feel like an ass."

"Sorry?"

"Don't apologize either. That's just as bad."

"Uh…"

"Look, this is genuinely great and all." Morgan interrupts. "But we can talk while marching, right?"

"Yeah, fine." Kjelle says. I nod silently.

So… I guess that means me and Kjelle aren't enemies anymore? We're not friends, but we're not enemies. I can live with that.

###

I was expecting my talk with Kjelle to be the last somewhat serious talk of the day. I was wrong.

It doesn't start off like you'd expect a mildly serious talk to start. Me and Morgan have just finished starting up the fire, Kjelle is doing some extra training a short distance away, and Noire is off hunting and should be back soon (it's almost sundown). When the fire isn't in imminent danger of flickering out I sit back against a log to watch it, and Morgan quickly drops into my lap only a moment later.

It's odd how normal this has become. A few months back and this sort of position would be nerve-wracking (and it still sparks a bit of nervousness for the first few moments now), but now it's normal-ish.

There's something very comforting about this position. Maybe it's that Morgan is small, warm, and huggable, or maybe it's the more base "cute girl physical contact" part of my subconscious. Or… you know what? This isn't a relevant train of thought. I don't need to dissect why I find this comfortable. It just is.

So, serious talk. Morgan sits down in my lap, making herself comfortable as she usually does. I loosely hug her as I usually do when she takes this position. That's all fine. Then Morgan actually speaks.

"Nathan." Her voice is calm. At this point I don't expect anything serious. Maybe it's a question about a song, or maybe I used an unfamiliar word at some point during the day. That's usually what prompts her questions. If I was more acute, which I am not, maybe I could have detected that she was keeping inflection out of her voice.

"Hmm?" I rest my chin on her head.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." I say. I glance down. She's looking up at me. Staring in fact. "Are you?"

"Yes." She says firmly. Her eyes flick to mine, to my mouth, to my forehead, then back. Is she looking for something? "Nathan."

"Yes?"

"Are you lying to me?" Her tone is not accusing. It's more concerned than anything.

"No." I blink. "Why…?"

"Well we did get ambushed today, and you got a slur thrown at you, and had a sort-of fight with Kjelle." Morgan recounts. "So I'd normally say that would be a pretty bad day."

"So were you lying when you said you were fine then? You got ambushed, and watched a sort-of fight between party members, and also those bandits clearly wanted certain _unsavory_ things of you. That sounds like a pretty bad day too."

"I suppose it does." Morgan admits. "I was more concerned about the fact that you don't exactly have thick skin and you're not comfortable with fighting. Unlike me."

"Unlike you?"

"Yes." She says simply. "Dealing with the bandits felt like doing my job. I was confident, _comfortable_ even, like I was in my element. Their threats were just background noise; another day on the job. Kinda weird now that I think about it."

"Maybe it's because you probably had experience with all this before you lost your memories."

"Maybe." Morgan nods. "And I think we both know I have thick skin." Well, I can't argue there. I was thinking more about the fighting anyways. "Also, don't change the subject."

"Well there's not much to say about it." I mumble. "We got ambushed. That sucked, but you guys murdered their asses pretty hard, and hearing you laugh at my act really took the feeling of danger out of the situation. If you were laughing I figured the situation was fine. As for the slur… well it didn't really have an impact. I've never dealt with slurs directed at me before, so it was more of a curiosity than some painful instance of racism. Also, "flat face" sounds stupid, and I knew the guy was an asshole who was totally going to die, so it was hard to take it seriously."

"Ah." Morgan relaxes. "Good then."

"When I have a…" I pause. I was going to say girlfriend, but I'm not sure that's the point we're at. Fuck if I know what point we _are_ at, but I'm not going to be presumptuous. Better safe than sorry. Gotta find something else to say. "...group of teammates involving a sniper, a girl who could probably deadlift a tree, and someone who can throw fire, I'm less inclined to be worried about untrained thugs. It's not like we were facing those slavers who actually looked like they might know what they were doing. These were bandits. I wouldn't be surprised if half of them had never actually had to fight someone before."

"That's basically what I concluded about them while watching." Morgan nods. "Almost none of them were holding their weapons properly."

"Uh… I just assumed they didn't have experience because they didn't attack us instantly and lost the element of surprise."

"Well they were hoping to intimidate rather than fight, but he did talk way longer than he needed to." Morgan nods.

"I suppose you didn't get to see how disappointed he was that I wasn't acting scared."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. I started playing dumb to stall for time and he went from smug to annoyed when I dodged his implications several times. It was kinda funny actually."

"Now I wish I was watching rather than just listening." Morgan laughs. "And how did he react to your whole collector act?"

"He was weirded out." I shrug. "Looked at me like I was crazy. Standard stuff."

Morgan makes a "tsk" noise with her mouth. "He clearly didn't appreciate the _art_ of your act."

"Obviously. He made no note of the haughty posture I adopted, or how I held my head high. Why, he didn't even show interest in my collection! Rude really." I smile.

"You didn't even show _me_ off." Morgan huffs. She crosses her arms, also smiling. "I'm offended, really. You praised Noire and Kjelle, but not me? Your girlfriend? Really now."

Oh, so that _is_ the term we're using. Cool. "I can't just show the gem of my collection to anyone. A visitor has to _earn_ the privilege to gaze upon certain pieces."

"Is that how it is?"

"Indeed." I say, trying to make my voice smooth and smug. To add to the act, I stroke her hair kinda like you'd expect a villain to stroke the head of a pet. "Do not pout my dear, he was not worthy. Your task was far more important. Only the best visitors for the best of my collection."

"Of course, of course." Morgan nods. She takes a second, then says. "You know, it just occurred to me this joke is a bit messed up."

"Well yeah, that was sort of the point, wasn't it?" I say. "Dark comedy. We're literally making the joke that I'm a creepy pervert who collects young girls. It's funny _because_ it's messed up but also untrue."

"I guess I just never gave it much thought." Morgan shrugs.

"Having second thoughts?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. Please, keep up the act. I do enjoy being the _most important_ part of the collection if I keep getting compliments."

"Oh I see, you just want the compliments." I smirk. "Doesn't matter how you get it."

"Guilty as charged." Morgan grins. She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck. "So please, don't hold back."

Kjelle's voice cuts into our talk. "Can you two not? There _are_ other people here you know."

Morgan raises her voice, but adopts our usual flat "I'm making a joke" tone. "Oh yes, Nathan, don't stop." She tilts her head to expose her neck, and splays out her limbs in an exaggeratedly suggestive manner.

"My." I say in a similarly flat and emotionless tone. "What a tasty sight." I snake a hand into her coat (not her shirt, he coat) and stroke her leg with the other while lowering my face so my nose strokes her neck. (Morgan actually shivers when I do that. Not sure how I should react, so I say nothing).

Kjelle sighs deeply and doesn't comment. After a moment, me and Morgan drop our act and return to a more normal position. When we do that, Kjelle speaks. "Morgan."

"What's up?"

"Do you have any idea how long it will take to get to Ylisstol from here?"

"Not really." Morgan admits. "It's not like we have a map. Finding you was our rough halfway point for getting through Ferox."

"And we might want to consider picking up Nah on our way down through Ylisse." I add. "Granted, that would mean finding passage to the island her paralogue is located on and moving to the east coast of Ylisse rather than just going down the center, but it's something we can consider."

"Trying to collect all the future kids?" Morgan jokes.

"Well kinda." I shrug. "We have no way of knowing if the Shepherds will actually find them, and all the future kids get into dangerous and possibly fatal situations if the game is correct."

"But the issue with that is that you don't know how well your knowledge actually lines up, right?"

"Right."

"I would vote for finding Nah." Kjelle says. "If we have the knowledge to find her, and there is even the slightest chance of danger to her, we should consider ourselves _obliged_ to find her. Whether she ends up being in danger or not, we can't take that risk."

"Yeah, that's a fair point." I agree. "Morgan?"

"Makes sense." She shrugs. "As long as we have the money for it, which we should. That said, if we could find the Shepherds we could get their help. We'd have more strength to deal with problems that do arise."

"It would take longer in the case of Nah." I remind her. "For everyone else, we're going to Ylisstol first anyways. Laurent's paralogue is below Ylisstol, the others are in the far reaches of Plegia or on the other continent. We'd be stopping by Ylisse before going to them anyways. Nah is the only one left where we have a logical reason to go to her first rather than Ylisstol."

"Well put." Kjelle agrees.

Noire returns at this moment. She steps out of the forest carrying a whole deer over her shoulders. "I caught something…"

"So we can see." Kjelle says. "You're just in time to offer an opinion. We're deciding if we should detour to get Nah before we go to Ylisstol."

"Ah…" Noire mumbles. She lays the deer on a log. "Um… I don't mind either way…"

Well, I can't say that's a surprising answer, but I should probably offer her the facts. "It will delay us going to Ylisstol. We're going to have to go all the way to the east coast and across the water. You're okay with that?"

"Yes." Noire nods. "It's fine."

I suppose we're going after Nah then. Cool.

Noire then skins, guts, and cooks the deer, and we eat; and I'm here to inform you that deer tastes really… generic.

###

"Hey Nathan."

"Yeah?"

"I never asked, but… what do you look like?"

"What?"

"This isn't your body, right?" She taps my arm. "So what do you actually look like?"

"Well…" I squint as I remember. "Skinny, boney, pale, long dark brown unkempt hair that goes to the waist, blue eyes, not tall, scrawny… I don't know how to describe appearances in more nuance."

"Huh." Morgan blinks. "That's… hmm."

"You were expecting something else."

"Well yeah. I guess I thought you'd be tall."

"Because I'm tall right now?"

"Yeah." Morgan says quietly. I think she just remembered she can't use my current body as any sort of indicator of what I actually look like. "You said shorter than average? How short?"

"I dunno." I shrug helplessly. "I don't remember my exact height, I just know I was shorter than most other adult men I was around. Not by any huge margin, just by a bit."

"Taller than me?"

"Probably." I nod.

"How about Kjelle?"

"I think so."

"Noire?"

"Probably about the same height as Noire." I guess. I'm not really sure. I never bothered to keep track of how tall I was. My current perspective is at least a head taller than I used to be though. I can tell just by looking at the ground. "Maybe a bit taller? I think I was about average height back home. It's just that there were a lot of tall people in my classes."

"What did your voice sound like?"

"I don't know how to describe _that_." I shrug. "Not this deep, that's for sure."

"Would you be able to describe what race you are?"

"Not really. I doubt the term "caucasian" exists here." I say. "Not Valmese, not Chon'sinese, not Feroxi." Technically just not dark skinned Feroxi, because Olivia is Feroxi too but she looks totally different. I can't tell any substantial differences between Plegian, Ylissian, and light Feroxi.

"Would you be able to identify your own race if you saw someone who was a part of it?"

"Maybe within a certain margin I could." I muse. "But for the most part no. For example you, Noire, and Kjelle all fall into that margin."

"Hmm…" Morgan frowns.

"What's wrong? Why so insistent?"

"I just want to know. It's weird to think what I'm seeing is not who you consider yourself to be." Morgan says. "I want to know how _you_ see yourself."

I have the best girlfriend apparently. "I'm sure there's a spell or something that could be used to show you. A mental projection thing."

"Yeah." Morgan still sounds disappointed.

I abruptly pull her into a hug (seeing as we're walking at the moment, that also involves picking her up). "You're the best."

"Hell yeah I am." She agrees. "Uh… why in this case?"

"Because I'm too emotional." I mumble.

"Hey, if this is emotional, please continue." Morgan says cheerfully.

"Please don't." Kjelle grumbles from beside us.

"Killjoy." Morgan huffs.

"Just get a room or something." Kjelle groans. "Just don't do this shit in front of me."

"You're just jealous." Morgan taunts.

"Absolutely not." Kjelle says instantly.

"You just want a hug too, don't you?"

"No, I don't."

"So cold."

"Or you're just shameless."

"Can confirm." Morgan grins. "No shame here!"

"I know." Kjelle replies tiredly. "You're not exactly subtle."

###

I know me and Kjelle aren't exactly hostile to each other any more, but it still feels weird to try and talk to her.

There's also the problem that I'm not quite sure what to ask her. I want to know who her father is, and if she knows the parentage of the other kids, but asking that just makes it seem like I'm being nosy for no reason (which I sort of am), but I also just want to know more about Ylisse before we get there. The vague tidbits I got from the game don't exactly tell me how the country is like. Playing the game is like getting a pamphlet about the countries involved. It's barely anything.

There's so much I want to know that I don't know where to start, and I'm sure to miss something. Maybe I should just focus on the important information. Parentage is the most important. If I can narrow down the pairings I might be able to figure out who Morgan's mother is, and Morgan would love to know that.

"Are you just going to stare, or are you actually going to say something?" Kjelle asks. She's not looking at me, I wonder how she knew I was staring.

Morgan is bathing at the moment, and Noire is practicing archery. Kjelle is practicing with her spear while I tend the fire.

"Well yeah. I was just wondering how to start." I say. "Because I don't know how to ask this question without sounding weird."

"Then just _say_ it. Don't dance around." Kjelle grunts. She strikes the tree with her wooden lance, still not looking at me.

"Right, uh… I want to know who married who among the Shepherds."

Kjelle pauses, then looks at me with a frown. "Why the fuck would you want to know that?"

"For Morgan." I say in a hurry. "She's an amnesiac, right? She doesn't know who her mother is, only her father. So if I can find out the pairings among the Shepherds I can use my knowledge of the game to narrow down who Morgan's mother might be."

"Well I suppose that makes sense." Kjelle grumbles. "It's still so weird that there's a _game_ about us…"

I nod silently, waiting for Kjelle to start explaining.

"Ugh, I'm not the person you should be asking though." Kjelle sighs. "I'll tell you what I know, but I don't know too much."

"Anything helps."

"Well… okay. My parents are Sully and Stahl." Kjelle says. "Noire's are Gaius and Tharja. The royal family is Exalt Chrom and Queen Maribelle, with Princess Lucina and Prince Brady being the royal children."

Chrom and Maribelle? That's a pairing I never see. Then again, I suppose the actual world of Awakening isn't going to correspond to the preferences of a fandom in an entirely different world.

"Severa's parents are Sir Frederick and Wing Commander Cordelia." Kjelle continues. "Princess Lissa is married to Sir Vaike, and their child is Prince Owain. The last I can tell you is Cynthia, who's parents are Commander Sumia and Father Libra."

"Right." I don't think Sumia and Libra are a pairing you can do in the game, which is a bit worrying. Still, I compile all that information in my head. As mothers I don't have to consider Nowi, Tiki, or Panne due to the obvious physical traits they would pass down (even if that doesn't happen in-game, but I think I can safely assume that would happen here) and the same goes for Lissa and passing down the Brand of the Exalt. I'm ignoring second-generation units as potential mothers due to it being simply unlikely in my eyes. Tharja, Sully, Maribelle, Cordelia, and Sumia are now out of the running. "So that leaves Miriel, Cherche, Olivia, Anna, Flavia and Say'ri…" It could also be Aversa I suppose, but that strikes me as exceedingly unlikely. Emmeryn isn't likely due to passing the Brand as well. "That would be four likely possibilities: Miriel, Cherche, Olivia, and Anna. Taking into account that Morgan doesn't have dark skin like Flavia, or epicanthic folds like Say'ri."

You know, four possibilities assuming my methodology isn't totally wrong to begin with.

"Epi-what folds?"

"Uh… squinty eyes." I think that's a rude way of putting it, but I want to make sure Kjelle knows what I mean.

"Ah." She nods. "But that doesn't give you the answer you want."

"No." I affirm. "But it narrows it down a lot more, which is still useful."

"Won't this be irrelevant once we find the Shepherds and just _ask_?"

"Assuming Robin is already married, yes, it would be irrelevant. If he's not, then the deduction is still useful. The deduction is also useful if we figure out before we find the Shepherds, because it would just be nice to tell Morgan about her mother."

"You've thought this through." Kjelle sounds surprised.

"As much as I can. There's still the chance that I'm totally wrong. After all, I'm assuming this world roughly follows the rules of the game." I explain. "Maybe Robin married someone that doesn't exist in the game. Maybe he's gay. Maybe Morgan is adopted. Hell if I know for sure. Libra and Sumia isn't a pairing you can do in the game, so I have no idea if Robin will deviate even further."

"Right…"

"What? You sound cautious."

"Your interest in the personal lives of the Shepherds is still creepy, and the fact that you can even make these sorts of deductions is doubly so." Kjelle says bluntly.

"Well excuse me." I grumble. I understand why she's saying that, but come on, at least I have a good reason this time. "Thanks for the info though."

That'll be something I can tell Morgan later, but I really wish I could tell her _exactly_ who her mother is likely to be rather than a few options. That's like saying a cake is one of four things rather than probably one thing. I'd rather know it's probably chocolate than maybe chocolate or strawberry or vanilla or butterscotch. At that point the "maybe" is pointless because there are so many options and you might as well just say you don't know.

Kjelle seems to get this impression too. "Not really enough, is it?"

"No." I admit.

"Well then… hey Noire!" Kjelle suddenly shouts. She then looks at me. "What do you still need to know?"

"At least three of four options left." I say. I can make a deduction from there. "Basically Inigo, Gerome, and Laurent's fathers, or if Anna was involved with anyone."

"Do you remember who Gerome, Laurent, or Inigo's fathers were?"

"Um…" Noire pauses her training. "I think Gerome's was… Sir Donnel. I never talked with Inigo much. Laurent's father is Duke Virion. He taught me to shoot."

Okay, okay! So, that leaves just Anna or Olivia. "Do you know Anna?" I ask eagerly.

"Which one…?"

"There should have been one that joined the Shepherds."

"I don't know."

That's a shame, but two options is _much_ better. I have a stupid excited grin on my face and Kjelle is shaking her head at me. Screw you Kjelle, I'm happy. You can be a killjoy some other time.

Morgan returns with wet hair and a thoughtfully scrunched-up face. Her eyes meet mine, and noting my excitement a smile creeps onto her face as well. She doesn't even know why I'm excited, but she's still happy about it.

As if I didn't deserve Morgan more than I already don't.

"What's up?" She asks quickly. "What happened? Did we find something? The Shepherds? Another kid? Free food!?"

"No, no, and no." I smile back. "Nothing so drastic."

"Did we find… gold?"

"No."

"A cool weapon?"

"Still no."

"A rare animal."

"No."

"A new girl for your collection?"

"Unfortunately, no." I sigh dramatically. "Something much more simple."

"C'mon, tell me!"

"I've managed to narrow down your mother to two possibilities." I say. "Probably, assuming my logic is sound."

Morgan stands up straight with her eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yeah. Kjelle and Noire knew enough for me to make some more conclusions." I say. "It's either Anna or Olivia."

"Cool!" Morgan gasps. "Uh… who are those?"

Right, of course those names are going to mean nothing to her. "Anna is a merchant. She has dozens of identical sisters. All of them have red hair and are _quite_ money-obsessed. Olivia is a dancer, and was employed by Khan Basilio. If she's your mother, that will also mean you have a brother."

"Woah… will he know who I am?"

"Based on the game, yes." I say cautiously. "That said, his knowledge of you may not line up so well considering you're likely from a different future world than everyone else. That's speculation on my part…"

"But logically that makes sense." Morgan says. "Right, okay… woah… I might have a brother… what's _he_ like?"

"Inigo is a flirt. A _huge_ flirt." I say. I have the option here to tell Morgan the reason why inigo is a flirt, but I think that falls into the territory of personal information that I shouldn't be giving out without his permission considering he usually hides that information. "And he gets turned down constantly."

"That's going to be so much fun…" Morgan smirks.

"Looking forward to seeing him failing?"

"Yep. Nothing is funnier than seeing someone who thinks they're cool failing miserably." She says cheerfully.

"You're going to be such a _nice_ and _supportive_ sister, aren't you?" I say sarcastically.

"Oh you know I am." Morgan says with a somewhat evil grin. "Even if I'm not his sister, I'm going to have a lot of fun with him."

I don't envy you Inigo. Also, my money is on Olivia being Morgan's mother (if only because Anna strikes me as a bit too self-centered to get married). Then again, my whole time spent in Awakening's world has been one big lesson in "Don't judge a person by their video game representation", so maybe I shouldn't cut Anna out of the running.

Either way, narrowing it down to two options isn't bad. Unfortunately it will be a while before we can get confirmation on which one is the right one (or if I'm totally off) either from Nah knowing or from finding Robin and the Shepherds.

My non-existent money is still on Olivia though.

###

"Is this foreign…?" I ask quietly. I gesture subtly to the simple red book on the merchant's display stand.

We found another moderately sized town on our way across Ferox. As per usual when we find one of these places, me and Morgan check out any local stores and passing merchants to see if there's anything of interest. Through these trips Morgan has accumulated a pouch full of random trinkets including: a pair of deer bone dice, a set of ten sewing needles (no thread), a stone charm that looks like a dragon (non-magical), a wooden hair clip, deer bone tweezers, two-dozen small wooden marbles, a deer bone knife hilt with an ornate design carved into it (with no blade), and a single dented horseshoe.

I don't think she'll find a use for half of those things. They were all cheap though, costing only a copper or two a piece because most of them were items the shop or merchant was trying to get rid of (so basically bargain bin stuff).

Anyhow, the book. It's just a red book. It's small, looks cheap, has no cover art (as you'd expect from a medieval book I suppose), and is scuffed and scratched all over. All that remains is (what I presume is) a title that was actually _stitched_ into the cover in brown thread.

"Hmm?" Morgan peeks at it. "No, that's standard Arcanean."

"What we're speaking right now?"

"Yes."

"Fuck."

"What?"

"I can't read it."

"Well-" Morgan starts to say something, pauses, then mutters. " _Oh_ … You know how to read and write in your world I presume?"

"Yep."

"So our written language is different."

I sigh in disappointment. Somehow this revelation kinda stings. I _like_ reading, and now I can't even do that. "Yep."

Morgan nods solemnly and leans against me. "I'll teach you at some point."

"Thanks." I mumble sadly.

"Incidentally, I think it's erotica judging by the title."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm really not." She grins. "I was curious there for a second if you were making some sort of joke."

"No way I would have had the guts to do that." I say. I honestly can't see myself doing that.

"I would have."

"Yeah, I know."

"Maybe I still will."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"I can totally use this to tease Inigo when we meet him." Morgan muses. "Like giving it to him as a gift to numb the sting of rejection."

Giving him erotica to help him cope with not getting a date? Wow. "You're terrible; and lewd." And she's already considering ways to mess with Inigo too. "Why don't you just say to his face that you think he's a sad loser who'll never actually get laid? I'm sure that'd hurt less."

"But it would also be less funny." She grins.

"Yeah… yeah it would." I admit.

Morgan ends up buying the book.

###

"Checkmate!"

"Well I guess I shouldn't be surprised…" I sigh.

"This game really is incredible though." Morgan says. "I can see why it was so popular in your world. There's so much to it despite the simple appearance."

"Rub in your tactical genius why don't you?" I sigh. "Well played."

"I do _not_ rub it in…"

"Well yeah-"

"You do that well enough for me on your own."

"And you love every second of it, don't you?"

"Hell yeah I do." Morgan smirks.

"At least it's simple to keep you happy." I tease.

Morgan gasps and puts an sarcastically offended hand on her chest. "Are you calling me easy?"

"Yes."

She shrugs. "Eh, whatever. Means I'm happy all the time then."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Happy all the time. Are you?"

"Well not literally all the time. Being an amnesiac is a bit of a downer sometimes." Morgan muses. "But considering the situation, honestly I'm not doing too bad." A grin crosses her face and she leans forward while saying "I'm happy with you if that's what you're asking."

"Good." I mumble, probably blushing fiercely. That's not what I meant, but it's nice to hear. I remember Morgan's endings saying she didn't seem to miss her memory but there's no telling how true to life that is at the moment. _That's_ why I asked. "Incidentally, I never asked, but what _do_ you remember? You know about your father right?"

"More like the only memories I have involve my father." Morgan admits. "I don't "know about him" per say."

"I see…" I nod. "So what are these memories? How great _is_ your dad?"

"He's the best!" Morgan says eagerly. "He taught me tactics! I remember we used to play this board game with figurines. I can't remember what it was called, but there were Pegasus Knights and Wyverns and knights and everything! They were so detailed, and Father painted all of them himself!"

So what I'm hearing is that Robin is a wargamer. That's very fitting and kinda cool. I wonder what the game is like...

"I also remember him helping me with sword fighting and learning to use magic. He actually taught me thunder magic first. I guess I must have decided I liked fire more at some point…" Morgan muses. "Oh, and he took me to see a play at some point. I can remember walking into a theater with him."

I nod silently, not wanting to interrupt.

"He gave me this coat for one of my birthdays." She recalls, and pats her coat. "It's a copy of his original one. He said "any good tactician has to have a good coat!""

Wise words. Probably. Either that or he's a coat fanatic.

"Oh, and he always told me how awesome I was." Morgan says smugly, as if that's different from any other doting father. "Well, strictly speaking he said cute, but he'd probably think that I'm awesome _now_."

"Now that you're so much taller?" I ask cheekily.

She immediately scowls at me. "Screw you. I haven't hit my growth spurt yet."

I rest my chin on my fist, smirking. "Uh-huh."

"Just you wait. I'll end up being taller than you!" She grumbles.

"Considering you don't even come up to my collarbone, that's quite a bit of height to make up."

Morgan huffs. "Fine, taller than your real body."

"Okay, that's more reasonable… ignoring the fact that you won't get any taller."

"I _will_. Just you wait! I'm a late bloomer."

"Six years late? Sure." I mean, there are a few conditions that could explain why she looks the way she does if indeed she actually hasn't hit puberty for some reason, but I'm guessing she's done growing

"I am!"

"Sure." I pat her head patronizingly. "In the meantime, rest assured your father will still think you're cute."

"Or maybe _he'll_ think I'm mature and awesome." Morgan huffs. "Unlike you."

"I think you're both of those things… just not physically." I continue to tease. "Don't worry, you're still adorable. Even when you pout at me."

"You're lucky I like you." Morgan grumbles without any real anger in her voice.

"I don't often forget." I say while fighting the embarrassment of saying such a thing with a straight face.

Apparently my poker face is terrible, because Morgan's scowl turns into a grin. "Have I ever told you that you're cute sometimes?"

"No." I mutter, probably blushing horribly. "And I disagree."

"Well too bad, it's not your choice!" Morgan says cheerfully. "I'm going to have to remember this so I can bring it up again! You're so red!"

"Then I'm going to keep making fun of your height." I threaten petulantly.

"Come on, that's not an even exchange!" Morgan complains. "I'm giving you a compliment and you threaten to make fun of me?"

"Your 'compliment' is making fun of me too." I grumble.

"Doesn't mean it's not a compliment." Morgan says. "And I meant that genuinely! Just because _you're_ embarrassed doesn't mean I'm making fun of you! Come on, you compliment me all the time but I can't compliment you? No fair!"

"That is not the issue here." I mutter. I start cleaning up the chess set.

"Yes it is!" Morgan huffs. "Is this just because you're shy? It's totally because you're shy."

I say nothing and put away the chess set in my pack.

"You're just going to have to get used to it then." Morgan declares.

"You're terrible." I complain. At least she's in a good mood though. The whole point of me asking about her father was to put her in a good mood after accidentally bringing the conversation to the subject of her amnesia. I also got to learn about Robin too, so that's a bonus. Mission accomplished I suppose?

"Terribly good looking? Or maybe terribly smart?"

"Those too." I really do stroke her ego way too much. Ah whatever, she likes it. "Just not tall."

"Whatever you say, cutie." She retorts smugly.

Okay, maybe I _will_ have to stop making fun of her height if that's how she's going to respond…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kjelle is already more involved in the group than Noire. I think it's going to take a bit before Noire really has any part in the story, because the current party is not conducive to her at all.
> 
> For those of you familiar with the Varied Awakenings version of this story, you'll know the next chapter is our first Morgan POV. For those of you not familiar with that version… now you know.
> 
> This Morgan/Nathan dynamic is basically the same main dynamic I use in a lot of stories. Flirtatious girl/uncertain guy. I could probably write a goddamn essay on the base dynamic and it's variations by this point from how often I use them. Half my main stories involve that dynamic to some extent, though all with slightly different takes. I guess I know what I like and I hope you all like it too. As much as this particular story is self-indulgent, the reason it got made into a proper story at all is because there were enough people who expressed interest in it to make it happen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a debate here when I was writing this chapter for Varied Awakenings. Actually, the debate was happening in the chapter before it as well. It was whether I should make Morgan a proper second main character, as in make her POVs as frequent as Nathan's, or keep the focus on Nathan and make Morgan's POVs less common (I realized as soon as I hit chapter four that Morgan was way too important not to get a POV chapter at some point). I eventually decided on the latter, and I'm not sure if that was the right choice or not. Alas, the choice has already been made, but I think this story could have worked just as well with Morgan being a proper second main character.

Waking up is always interesting, if only because I never know where I've rolled to overnight. More often than not I've rolled towards the fire, probably due to my body trying to find heat in the somewhat cold environment we're in.

It may be spring, but we're in Ferox. It's still cold, and I'm a small, thin, _helpless_ genius who doesn't have enough body mass to keep herself warm through a cold night. Is it any wonder I roll towards the fire? So most mornings I wake up with my face pressed up against Nathan's bedroll because he sleeps between me and the fire, and sometimes I wake up literally on top of him if I've rolled more than usual. It's rare that I actually make it beyond him which is probably a good thing or I'd end up with another burn.

Nathan has never let me live that down by the way. It happened _once_ , and he treats it like if he doesn't put something between me and the fire I'm going to roast myself alive. I appreciate the concern, but seriously, he didn't need to put rocks and _chairs_ in my path…

Ah well. It's not like I mind his somewhat paranoid level of concern. It's nice to have someone worry over me, even if it's for an unnecessary reason.

I've also noticed that if Nathan wakes up before me (which is rare, he's a late sleeper, though not as much as Noire) I'll wake up to find him watching me. Nathan will have this look of subdued curiosity on his face, sometimes he'll actually be leaning over me, and when he notices I'm awake he'll perk up and greet me, usually sounding a bit rushed or excited.

I don't think you know how good it feels to wake up to find there's someone who's excited to see you awake. No caveat, nothing special, they're just happy to see you, and honestly I wish I was a later sleeper so that it would happen more often.

(I've often been tempted to do something similar. It would be fun to see how he reacts to waking up with me sitting on his stomach for example, but I think that's a bit too much for our current relationship.)

Today is not one of those days where I wake up after Nathan. I wake up with my face mashed against his bedroll like usual. I probably have the imprint of the fur on my cheek. Noire isn't up yet, so no breakfast. I've got nothing to do but wait around until people wake up.

Well, Kjelle is awake, but she's training. She's _always_ training… to the point that I'm worried it might be doing her more harm than good. Seriously, this girl trains minimum four hours a day, no exceptions, and that's not taking into account all the walking we do. It _is_ possible to overtrain and damage your muscles. I don't know what the exact threshold is though. I probably did at one point, but I can't remember now.

I have to wonder how much specific knowledge I've lost with my amnesia. I have a lot of general knowledge, but few of the exact details to go along with it.

Anyhow, no one is awake, so I entertain myself with the only thing I have… a book. Specifically the erotica book I bought a week and a bit ago when I learned Nathan can't read archanean. It's bad, really _really_ bad, and I love it. Besides, if I'm going to be "gifting" this to my maybe-brother I should at least know what I'm giving him.

The plot (bare bones as it is) is that there is some wandering swordsman who gets into a very one-sided "romance" with some village girl who spends most of the tale telling him to fuck off exept when he pulls down his pants and she "can't help herself because he's so manly and thick".

Yes, that's an actual line from the book. Again, it's really bad, and I'm smiling like an idiot the entire time I read it.

Kjelle marches back into camp looking sweaty and refreshed. She casts a mildly disapproving gaze over the two late sleepers, then notices me reading my book and shakes her head. "You're still reading that?" She asks quietly. "I thought you said it was terrible."

"It is. That's what makes it so much fun to read." I reply.

"Didn't you also say it was porn?"

"The term is _erotica_ thank you… and yes, it is." I say. "Why? Are you interested?"

"Naga _no_." Kjelle grimaces. "What do you take me for?"

"Someone who could use a good laugh." I say. I wave the book at her. "C'mon…"

"No."

"Prude."

"Degenerate."

"And proud of it!"

"Ugh…" She sighs. "You could stand to learn what shame is."

"And you could stand to learn about the joys of really bad porn."

Kjelle makes a face. "Those are words I never want to hear directed at me again."

"Well if you read the book, you won't have to hear them again!" I say cheerily.

"No."

"You're no fun." I huff. "Oh, hey, maybe I should read an excerpt to get you interested."

"Don't." She says sharply, and I promptly ignore her.

"Mary would like to smack the smug grin off Rick's face." I narrate gleefully. "His smile looked like that of a donkey that had just eaten a particularly tasty strip of lamb-"

"Donkey's don't eat lamb." Kjelle growls. "They don't eat meat at all. They're herbivores."

"-and then taken a particularly refreshing shit." I continue with a mad grin. "He put a particularly greasy hand around her shoulder, which she tried particularly hard to remove without making a scene. She had a role to fulfil as the pure village maiden after all."

"But that's a character archetype, not an actual _role_!" Kjelle seethes. "And why does the story have to say "particularly" every other word?!"

"Rick-" I choke back a laugh, both at the passage and Kjelle's increasingly frustrated commentary. "-guided Mary _particularly_ insistently behind the tavern where he shoved her roughly up against the _particularly_ hard wall. Mary's eyes glared defiantly at his sleazy face, though she couldn't help but be distracted by his well-defined thorax that his shirt clung to like a wet towel-"

" _Thorax?_ " Kjelle says incredulously. "Do they mean chest? Who the fuck uses the word _thorax_ outside of science talk?"

I giggle and continue. "-and as her gaze travelled even lower she noticed a _particularly_ large-"

"Okay! That's enough!" Kjelle barks, not caring for the volume of her voice. Apparently she must have been quite embarrassed, because her voice actually cracked upon saying "Okay."

I burst out laughing, and the combination of my laughter and Kjelle's shouting wakes the other two members of our party. Nathan is confused and blearily glances between the two of us while Noire gives everyone a death glare from underneath tangled black hair.

###

Fun fact! I don't get rides when we're marching just because I'm lazy. It's because I'm lazy _and_ because I'm cold. Like I said before, I'm small and don't have much body fat, so I get cold real easy. Now I have the best coat ever, but Nathan has _furs_ , and furs are warm. Also he's warm, because human beings are warm.

That's kinda how human beings work if you didn't know. We're warm. Also, that thing about exercise warming you up? Well it's true, but it makes you feel tired and sweaty and that's no fun. If you want to get warm on the go, find someone with really fluffy clothes and get a piggyback ride by using your feminine wiles… or just ask.

I bet I could get a ride from a stranger using my adorable face if I had to. I might have to stab them if they turned out to be creepy though. Alas, such is the price of being as attractive as myself. Everyone wants to keep you.

And yes, I'm aware I'm "cute" and not mature. I'm not oblivious to my appearance. I'm only joking that I haven't hit my growth spurt… mostly. I _feel_ like I haven't properly hit it yet. Some part of my subconscious, maybe a leftover of my memory, makes me feel like I should still grow. But I'm eighteen. I think I'm eighteen at least. That also feels right. But an eighteen year old that hasn't completed puberty? As Nathan pointed out, that's extremely unlikely. Not impossible mind you, especially if I'm willing to consider genetic conditions, just unlikely.

I wonder what I'd look like if I did get my growth spurt. I bet I'd look super peppy, but also smart and refined, but also _awesome_. Not that I'm not awesome right now, of course, but I'd look ever more so to the point that people would faint from my sheer awesomeness!

Would I stay cute if I grew, or would I tend towards sexy? Ooh, that would be fun. It would probably depend on the clothes a bit. Maybe I could switch between the two! Maybe I could even look refined? Augh, I wish I knew fashion. Is my tactician's coat elegant or is it cute? Hmm...

Anyhow, tangent over.

I'm often tempted, as I get these piggyback rides, to nibble Nathan's ear. It's literally right next to my face because my head is resting on his shoulder. We're… well I can't say _dating_ because we've done nothing of the sort due to us being on the road and Nathan fully planning on getting back home at some point. Our relationship (such as it is) consists of me being mildly flirtatious and him (being too self-conscious to be flirtatious) being affectionate in subtle ways. Mostly this manifests as him being overly concerned about me, having seemingly infinite patience for whatever I want to talk about, and (very cautiously) sometimes initiating physical contact.

Point is, our relationship is tame, so as much as I really want to see how he'd react I refrain from doing it. Actually, that applies to a lot of things I want to do concerning Nathan. Maybe that's a good thing though. He fully intends to go home if he can, so getting too intimate might be a bad idea in the long run. Maybe it's because I'm a lewd like Nathan jokes about, or maybe I crave intimacy or something. I dunno. Even though I know it's a bad idea, I'm always tempted to be just a little more forward, a little bit lewd, and to not hold back what I'm actually thinking in favor of politeness or out of worry of taking things too far.

I guess I sorta jumped into this relationship without giving it a lot of consideration. Ah well, I'm not going to complain about it. I'll enjoy it while it lasts. There are worse experiences I could have in my life than a sort-of romantic relationship with a clingy, anxious, but well-meaning, polite, and surprisingly sweet guy. Besides, if he can't get home, then my investment pays off. Win-win.

I still want to nibble his ear though. I'm gonna do that at some point, mark my words. I also want to see what he actually looks like. I dunno what "caucasian" is, but I'm gonna see it at some point. I promised I'd take care of him, and that involves finding a way to get his old body back.

I think technically I promised I'd help him adapt to this world, I don't remember exactly how I said it, but whatever. The spirit of the promise was that I'd take care of him, and I'm going to stick to that.

Nathan's voice interrupts my musings. "Morgan?"

"Hmm?"

"You're unusually quiet." He says.

"Just thinking."

"Right." His tone is vaguely uncertain, like he doesn't fully believe me. "As long as you're okay."

What? What does that mean? "Huh?"

"I dunno, you're rarely quiet. So I thought something might be off."

"Are you saying I never shut up?" I pout.

"Uh…" He hesitates. "Yes? But more politely."

"Well excuse me for being chatty." I huff. "It's not enough to have a cute girl on your back, they have to always be talking to you too?"

Nathan tenses. "That's not-"

"Nathan. Joke."

"Oh, right." He mumbles. "But you are okay, right?"

I grin, not that he can actually see me at the moment. "Yes Nathan, I'm fine."

"Okay…"

And this is why I initiated our sort-of relationship in the first place: he's cute. Awkward, but cute.

###

"Noire!"

"Y-Yes?"

"How are you holding up?" I've taken to periodically checking on Noire. The first time it was because Nathan asked me to, but seeing as Noire is a bit shy I figured it would be a good idea to check in on her every so often.

"I-I'm fine…"

"Are you sure? Are your legs hurting? You haven't been taking rides anymore."

"It's fine, really." She mumbles. "I don't find I need to anymore. I think it's because I've had more to eat s-so I'm more healthy."

"Oh, well that's good." I guess she didn't eat a lot in her old world. That explains why she's so thin at least. Now that I think of it, so is Kjelle despite all her training. I don't often see Kjelle out of her armor, but she doesn't have nearly as much muscle as I'd expect of someone who trains as much as she does. "I thought it was because Nathan weirded you out."

"That too." She admits sheepishly. "He always avoids looking at me for some reason."

I think that's because Noire is busty. Just by observing how Nathan acts, I'm fairly sure he goes by the logic of: "staring is rude, Noire being hot means I'd stare, so I should avoid looking at her in the first place to be polite". I'm not about to tell Noire that though; it would be immensely embarrassing and I haven't _confirmed_ that's the case (it's just a guess based on Nathan's usual trains of logic). "Well he's just as shy as you are, so that's probably it."

"If you say so…" She sounds unconvinced.

Maybe I need to change the topic. How do you do girl talk? Would Noire do girl talk at all? She's lived in a post-apocalyptic wasteland for multiple years now, so she probably wouldn't have anything to say on that front anyways. Think Morgan. What could she talk about? "Are you more comfortable around Kjelle?"

"A bit."

"Were you more comfortable around some of the others? Anyone you're looking forward to finding again?" I ask. This feels like a good idea. Surely she must have had a friend or two among the other future kids.

"I miss Severa." Noire says almost instantly. "And Brady too…"

Okay, good choice Morg! I'm a genius. Severa is the red-haired bitchy one, right? That's what Nathan told me. Brady is the frail, thuggish, but sensitive one. "Severa? Brady? Ooh, Nathan told me Severa is big on shopping. Did you go shopping together!?"

"No, no." Noire smiles nervously. "She's just really nice. I mean, she complains a lot, but she's always helped me out whenever I need it. I think I lean on her a bit too much sometimes."

Ah, so the exact _opposite_ of what Nathan told me. Or, at least, the surface elements he was willing to divulge. Interesting. "What does she help you with?"

"Everything…" Noire mumbles. "When I tore my clothes she'd help me mend them, when we started to go on the run she taught me how to skin, clean, gut, and cook things, when I had nightmares she'd hold my hand until I could fall asleep again… she did everything for me. She'd complain about it, but she'd always help."

"Huh, that sounds nice." I muse. "She'll be interesting to meet."

"I-If you like shopping you'll get along well." Noire says. "She _really_ likes shopping."

"Noted." A new shopping partner? Yes please. "And what about Brady?"

"Brady, uh… we're… friends." Noire's fingers tangle together and fidget. "We've known each other for a long time. My parents used to visit Themis a lot because Dad was friends with Queen Maribelle, and they'd bring me along to the palace. Princess Lucina was usually too busy to play with me, so I'd spend time with Brady because he was too frail to do as much training as the Princess. Also, we'd both get sick a lot, so we'd spend a lot of time stuck in a room together being forced to stay in bed with only each other to talk to."

"Ahh, so you're close buddies."

"Y-Yeah." She mumbles shyly. "Friends."

I try not to smile too much. "Very subtle."

"Wh-What?"

"Nothing~"

"What?! What do you mean?" She whines.

I pat her shoulders. "You're adorable."

"What?"

"Good luck."

Noire looks very lost, and I love it. "I don't understand…"

Well, there's always the chance she did mean friends innocently, so maybe I shouldn't insinuate. It is interesting that she uses the title of every other royal family member except Brady though. "Don't worry about it, just making a joke. Hopefully we'll find Severa and Brady soon for your sake. Maybe they'll be at Ylisstol!"

"I-It's really not a big deal."

"But you'd like them to be there, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would."

"Then let's cross our fingers that they're there." I say cheerfully. "I'm curious what you're like when you're not quiet."

"What?"

"You're always quiet, I wanna see what you're like when you're enthusiastic." I say honestly. "Because you've always been really nervous around the rest of us. You look like a good friend!"

That gets a blush out of her and much more stammering. I'm gonna call that a job well done!

###

It's not that Nathan isn't aware that he stands out by behaviour alone. He's said he knows as much, though I think he fails to understand the extent of it. Nathan thinks he stands out because of his body language. His exact words were something along the lines of "I always look nervous, and nervousness tends to stand out" which is fair enough, he's not wrong.

What stands out more is that he follows me around. I don't mean that he looks suspicious while doing it or anything, I mean that it's strange to people to see a grown man following around a girl who looks maybe thirteen.

We haven't had the same issue as the first town we came to where everyone thought Nathan was kidnapping me or was some creepy pedophile, but Nathan still gets some stares for the same reason. Nathan hasn't quite figured it out, and I don't want to tell him because I know his immediate reaction is going to be to _stop_ following me around, and neither of us want that.

I suppose the issue could be solved if Nathan simply _walked in front of me_ rather than me leading the way, but that would be awkward because I'd still be the one who's deciding where we're going because the only real reason he comes along is because he likes being around me.

That and his fear of abandonment which translates into a fear of being alone. Add on top of that me being the only person he trusts to actively look out for him rather than just tolerate his existence (his words, not mine), and yeah… I think the word "clingy" fits him well.

Sometimes dealing with Nathan is like dealing with a skittish dog. You need a lot of positive reinforcement and a _ton_ of patience. Being able to sling around logic is useful too.

Today we're shopping for supplies. We'd shop for pleasure afterwards, but this town is too small to have anything substantial to offer on that front. We walk into the general store, which is already occupied with another traveller (judging by the garb at least). We've got a few items to get here. I need a whetstone because my sword is starting to dull, some bandages for Noire, rations, and soap.

"Nathan."

"Hmm?"

"Ask the owner if he carries whetstones. That might not be the sort of thing carried here." I instruct. "I'm gonna grab the other stuff."

Now that might seem like something simple, but no! I am a _master_ tactician! This request is in fact a ploy! Well, it's not much of a ploy. I literally just want him to talk to someone that isn't me, because usually he doesn't. I get that he doesn't like talking to strangers, but it's to the point where it actually causes him anxiety when he has to which is a bit concerning, so if I can nudge him into getting somewhat used to it I will.

I deliberately take my time in finding all the items I need so I can listen in on Nathan's conversation. There's nothing too unusual about it. Nathan asks if the man sells whetstones, the guy says yes, and Nathan buys a whetstone.

…

Wait, _I'm_ supposed to be buying that. Nathan, there are at least four other things we need to get, I just wanted you to _ask_ if he _had_ one. I rush up to the counter holding the rest of the things we need to buy. "Nathan!"

"What?"

" _I'm_ supposed to be buying all the stuff."

"But you were being slow." He mumbles. "And I didn't want to make him wait."

That's a frankly unnecessary amount of politeness. "Nathan…"

"Sorry…"

"No, it's fine." I say with a smile. It's ridiculous logic, but very fitting for Nathan. I turn to the shopkeeper and put my stuff up on the counter. "These please!"

The shopkeeper glances between me and Nathan with obvious curiosity, but doesn't comment. I pay for the rest of the items and we step outside.

"Nathan, seriously." I huff. "Next time just wait."

"But I didn't want to keep him waiting."

"You don't need to be _that_ polite Nathan."

"I don't want to be rude." He says stubbornly. "Besides, all I did was save time."

I roll my eyes. "Sure, sure. How much did the whetstone cost?"

"Uhh… I think it was fifty coopper."

I can feel irritation coil in my gut, but I hold back from letting it show too much. "Expensive huh?" I hum. A whetstone is a very common item, it shouldn't be worth equal to a farming family's monthly income. Nathan just got ripped off by a huge extent. A whetstone should be worth less than half that amount. Is it because he looks foreign? Is that it? Or maybe the shopkeep could tell he was nervous and jacked up the price? Worse, he doesn't even know that he got ripped off because he has no sense for what value things are in Archanean currency, and might not even know what a whetstone _is_ considering swords aren't normal weapons in his world. "Well at least let me pay you back then. I don't have fifty copper, so here." I hand him a silver piece. That's twice the amount he paid, but whatever. One silver is functionally irrelevant to me.

"No."

"Nathan…"

"You're way overpaying me."

"Nathan, I have dozens of gold pieces. One silver is nothing."

"I haven't earned it."

"Well then the rest is a gift."

"I refuse."

Come on Nathan, seriously. You were the one who was so anxious about not having money of your own before. I'm offering you _free money_ here. "Nathan, you wanted money-"

"I earned this money." He says, and grabs his coin pouch. "That's the difference."

"Nathan, I'm your girlfriend, you can accept money from me. It's not a bribe or something."

"But…"

"If you don't take the silver now I'm going to slip it into your coin pouch when you sleep." I threaten petulantly. This is an absurd argument. This should not be a point of conflict.

He frowns at me and reluctantly takes the silver. "Fine."

I guess I could have backed down and just not given him the silver. After all, I don't see any situation in the foreseeable future where I wouldn't buy him nearly whatever he needs because I'm a doting girlfriend (and because my money is temporarily group funds, but sush, I need to make myself look as good as possible) unless it's something truly unreasonable, so it doesn't really matter how much money he has. I insisted he take the money on principal because pride or something being "unearned' is no reason to reject goodwill.

Well, there's probably some situation where there is a good reason. This is not one of those situations.

"Look, I'll buy you a trinket or something if it makes you feel better."

"That makes it even worse." He mutters.

Okay, yeah, in hindsight that wasn't the right thing to say. "Fine then. You buy me something to spend that fifty extra copper if you really don't want it."

"Uh…"

That wasn't the right thing to say either. Now I look needy. How do you do this relationship thing? I'm trying to be nice here!

"I wouldn't know what to get you." Oh, okay, so it's not an issue. Cool.

"Literally anything." I'm more just curious what he'd choose because I can't think of anything I'd want.

His choice is interesting. He gets me lots of spools of thread to go along with the sewing needles I've collected. When I ask if he's making a joke about women being good at sewing, his reply is "That honestly didn't occur to me. I was more thinking that I know your coat is important to you, so having repair supplies on hand might be nice."

It's only at that point I notice all the thread is black, purple, and gold. The perfect colors to match my coat. That's actually a really thoughtful choice.

Purple is also a very expensive color due to the colour being associated with royalty, and he ends up spending two silver on the purple thread alone. This time he doesn't complain when I hand him two silver to compensate.

###

Earth- that's what Nathan's universe calls their planet- is a curious place. Sometimes Nathan tells me about cool stuff like technology and the olympics and social progress, and sometimes he tells me about the shitty stuff like nuclear standoffs, flagrant disregard for human life, and the (in his opinion) near global corruption in politics.

And then sometimes...

"Did I ever tell you the song about an old man trying to get a young boy to give him a handjob?"

I laugh at the mere thought. "Excuse me, _what_? There's a song about that?"

"Yep."

"I _have_ to hear this."

And so he gleefully regails me with an absurd song about a boy with a princess-saving ocarina and an old man who painted his man parts. The references to various media (popular "video" games according to Nathan, with the song itself being a joke about a video game) go completely over my head, but I love the song anyways if just for the absurd premise.

It's a real shame I can't hear the music that goes along with all these songs he's sung. Nathan has tried to explain things like "techno" and "pop" and "rock" to me but his own lack of musical knowledge makes it so he can't explain them effectively. The only thing he's managed to explain is rap, and that's because most of them are barely songs in the first place and are much closer to aggressively musical poems.

Well, sometimes they are. "Rap" seems to vary quite a bit. Some are proper songs, and some are "just people talking really fast with irrelevant music in the background" (Nathan's words, not mine).

"Please tell me there are more songs like that." I say after Nathan finishes singing it. "There can't just be one, right?"

"Well none _quite_ like that, at least that I'm aware." Nathan says. "But the band does have a few other absurd songs. There's one about a superhero group who go way overboard on minor tasks and cause huge collateral damage."

"Yes please!" I say eagerly.

"I guess Starbomb is up your alley." He smiles. "Alright then…"

Nathan regails me with various absurd songs as we wander around the outskirts of town. The amount of weird stuff his world has come up with never ceases to amaze me. When people have a lot of free time on their hands, apparently they make giant toy balls the size of people and jump out of flying machines for fun, among hundreds of other random things.

There has to be some sort of spell that would let Nathan project his thoughts. I want to see what his world looks like. Explanations are no substitute for actually seeing things. Maybe Father will know. I can ask when we find him.

###

"Hello, my name is Morgan." I whisper to myself. "No, no, not that…"

I pull myself upright and grin.

"Heya! I'm Morgan!" I chirp. Then I frown. "No, that's too informal."

I'm practicing how I'm going to introduce myself to Father. That's going to be a super-important moment in the near future! I need to be perfect! But how formal do I be? How informal? What's going to impress Father the most?

What am I supposed to tell him about myself too? I have no memories. Am I just supposed to say: "Hi, I'm Morgan! I'm an amnesiac, but I think you're my father! I have no idea who my mother is, or if I have a sibling! I have no hobbies to speak of and I have no idea what I like!"

I know I'm naturally awesome, but even my natural awesomeness won't carry that conversation. I guess I might have hobbies. I play chess with Nathan and like shopping, but that's not great. "I like spending money and playing this one specific foreign strategy game!" is only marginally better than having no hobbies at all.

What am I supposed to say to _Mother_ too? Oh Naga I never even considered that. How am I supposed to talk to her at all? I don't even know who she is for sure! I don't have any memories of her! "Hi Mom! You are my mom, right?" is not a great conversation starter. I might as well just shank her in the stomach. It's gotta sting to know your future kid doesn't remember you at all but remembers their other parent. I can imagine how much that might mess them up. They're going to think they were a bad parent, and I have no idea if that was true or not!

But I can't _not_ talk to Mother. That would be even worse. She'd think I was avoiding her because she was terrible, and that won't be true at all because I'll have no idea what she's like!

Sorry Mother, whoever you are. I didn't ask to get amnesia. It sucks. I mean, it probably sucks. Maybe you're a terrible parent and I'm lucky to not remember anything about-

Augh, no, I shouldn't be thinking that! Nathan probably would have told me if any of my possible parents were really bad. Probably? No, he would have, right? Or does that fall under the "personal information I shouldn't be talking about" category in his mind?

No, he seemed pretty enthusiastic when talking about Olivia and Anna. They're probably good people. This sucks, all I know about my mother is maybe two sentences Nathan has said about them, and that's assuming Nathan's deductions on who their identities are accurate in the first place.

That makes me a bad daughter, doesn't it? But I have no memories so it's not my fault! Should I be trying harder to find out who she is? I don't have reliable information to work with though! Nathan can try his best, but he's dealing with a multiple-universe issue and trying to derive conclusions about an actual world using knowledge from a _game_ , and we both know it's not necessarily going to be accurate.

All I can do is hope to run into a sibling if I have one, or hope one of the future kids recognizes me as the daughter of Robin and insert-woman-here.

This is also ignoring that I'm probably from a different future where the pairings might have been different, so there's no guarantee I'll ever meet my actual mother, and I'll never really know if the world I came from lines up with this one.

Fun thoughts all around. Sorry I don't know too much about you Father. Sorry I don't know who you are Mom. I'll make it up to you by being awesome. I swear! I'm a tactical genius, I'm cute as fuck, and you can still see me grow up because I still haven't hit my growth spurt, and I know how to fight, and… and… that's about it…

I have a sort-of boyfriend. Is that a good thing? Is Father going to be protective and say "you can't have a boyfriend!" because I don't want to have to choose between Nathan and Father. I mean, if that happens it probably means Father is a jerk, so that simplifies things, but it'd still suck.

There's so many ways Father and Nathan meeting could go wrong. Nathan is already nervous around people like Kjelle and Noire, and I can't imagine his girlfriend's father who is also high-ranking military personnel is going to be any less nerve-wracking for him, and I just have no idea how Father will react to Nathan. Curiosity, hostility, caution, warmth? Who knows? I sure don't!

Father might disapprove of me and he might disapprove of my boyfriend. Mom might too, and I can't try to prepare for her because I don't know for sure who she is! This sucks.

###

"Ah, I do enjoy the smell o' the sea breeze…" I muse. "It's a good day fer sailin'!"

"Aye captain." Nathan says. "Everythin's ship-shape and ready to go. We've got news o' some merchant vessels comin' down the pass. We should be able to get eyes on 'em within the day."

"My blade be thirstin' for a good raid." I chuckle. "Put the sails to full mast! We'll have their treasure by sunset lads!"

"Are you two incapable of being normal for more than a week at a time?" Kjelle mutters.

"There are people watching!" Noire whines.

Incidentally, we're in a port at the south east part of Ferox. We've already purchased passage over to the Isle of Argent. Apparently the people who live on the island call it "L'isle de Argent" (which, if Nathan is right about that language being accurate to his world's language of "French", means either "the island of money" or "the island of silver", he can't quite remember which).

That's sorta weird though. Ferox doesn't speak "French" (or whatever this world's equivalent is) from what I know, nor does Ylisse from what Kjelle knows, so why does this island specifically have a name in a different language?

The Feroxi sailors we asked didn't know, so we'll just have to ask someone at the island when we get there. It's going to take about a week to get across the bay. Our ship leaves soon. The captain said just after sunrise, and the sun came up about twenty minutes ago, so we should be leaving soon.

The ship is small, made for transporting supplies more than it is people. It doesn't have any proper guest rooms, but they do have an empty crew room they were willing to let us stay in over the ride. It's cheaper _and_ faster than chartering a proper passenger ship, because this ship is made for efficiency and not comfort.

That does mean our beds probably won't be the best, but whatever. We still have all our blankets we got in the north, so we can put those under ourselves for extra cushioning. It's not super cold now that we're closer to Ylisse, so we won't necessarily have to pull the blankets over ourselves all the time for warmth.

At least we have beds at all. It's not unusual for the only sleeping arrangements for the crew to be hammocks rather than beds to save on money.

"Well you two sound excited." The captain, an extremely short, muscled, brown-skinned man about Morgan's height. He's completely blind as evidenced by his milky eyes, and carries around a wooden staff equal to his height. "I hate to tell you that you're gonna be disappointed, but you are. Sailing ain't anything glorious. 'specially for passengers like you, there's a lot o' downtime."

"But we get to ride a _ship_!" Morgan says eagerly. "I've never ridden a ship before!"

"It's just a ship." Kjelle says dryly. "We're going to be lucky if our food isn't maggot-infested. That's just how things are on ships."

"You're speakin' truth." The captain says. "At least, if you're talkin' 'bout fifty years ago. There's been improvements since then, lass. Ways to deal with maggots and rats. Any captain with even an ounce of care for their crew, or who wants to eat half-decent food, will have the new measures and equipment."

Nathan looks immensely interested. "Really? What sort of measures? Do you deal with scurvy too?"

"Aye." The captain nods in amusement. "If you're all so interested, I'll tell you about it when we're on our way. S'not often I have passengers interested in how everythin' on the ship works. Especially not rich men like yerself."

Nathan blinks in obvious surprise and glances at himself self-consciously. He probably doesn't think he looks rich, and _he_ doesn't, but he is travelling with three relatively well-dressed young women (I've got my nice coat, Kjelle has her armor and solid travelling clothes, and we bought some quality deerskin clothes for Noire back when we first found her to replace her torn outfit), so it's no wonder the captain assumes he's rich.

Though that's probably because, once again, Nathan is assumed to be in charge of our little group on virtue of being male.

"Morgan is the rich one." Nathan says honestly. "I'm just a friend."

"Ah, I see." The captain smiles. "Good catch."

Nathan looks nervous now, not wanting to say something presumptuous most likely. "That's… uh…"

"Accurate!" I chirp. I _am_ a good catch. The best in fact. I decide to redirect things though. "So, when do we leave? Do you sing songs when you sail? What sort of stuff are you transporting?"

"I'm just waitin' for the men to arrive." The captain says. "The boys are probably hungover knowin' them. We'll leave in a minute. I gotta inspect the ship one last time just to make sure everything is ready to go. I'll be happy to answer questions after we're properly on our way."

"Okay, but hurry then!" I say. "I have so many questions."

The captain chuckles and walks up onto the deck. His staff clacks against the wood as he marches around and feels various ropes to check if they're properly tied. He turns the wheel to make sure it works, and then calls us. "Feel free to come up! I'm going to check below deck. If any of the boys arrive, tell them where to find me!"

"Okaaaaay!" I shout. The captain stomps down the stairs as I skip up on deck and go right to the front of the ship. I lean way over the railing to look at the water below. "Cool…"

"Better get used to it. It's all you're going to see for a few days." Kjelle grumbles.

"Don't lean so far over the railing." Nathan mumbles to me, and lightly grabs my shoulders.

"We're not even moving Nathan."

"I don't want you to fall…"

"I hope I don't get seasick." Noire mumbles worriedly. "I've never been on a ship."

"If the ship rocks too much I won't be able to train." Kjelle grumbles. "Then what am I going to do?"

"I have a book you can read." I offer.

" _No_."

"Aww, c'mon…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan's voice is more complex than Nathan's, mostly because she's better at thinking ahead than he is and can comment more of the world around them. There's more to her than that of course, but I don't want to ramble too long on my ideas for Morgan. I'll save that for a later chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do some thinking about how L'isle de Argent factors into the story overall and what Nah's situation is. I wasn't sure if this would be one chapter or three. I had some fun with worldbuilding when it came to the island though. I actually didn't know there was a large island there until I took a good look at the map. Knowing it's an island makes it really obvious how out of the way it is and how much of a detour it would be for the Shepherds to go there. The same can be said of Cynthia's paralogue, as well as Emmeryn's, Severa's, and Gangrel's. It's odd that the Shepherds would go there in-game without some foreknowledge. Especially when the Valm arc hits, how would the Shepherds have time to go on random detours? I guess it's just game logic.
> 
> We actually don't even get to the island this chapter. I didn't realize how long this was at first, but holy crap this one week boat ride might be two chapters in itself.

So the ship smells awful, but the food isn't half bad. Surprisingly it's not just fish.

The captain made good on his promise to answer our questions, and it's interesting. Well, interesting to _me_ , if not particularly relevant. Kjelle is coming along on this impromptu tour because she wants to make sure the food is actually being kept well and we won't be eating maggots, and Morgan is coming out of mild curiosity but also just because of me I think. It's the same way I follow her around when she shops. Noire went straight to the room. She said she didn't want to be out when the sailors got here because… I have no idea actually. She didn't explain.

"So, the food." The captain chuckles. "Since the lady knight is so concerned about it." He swings his staff and taps some barrels. "We keep all the food and drink in these."

"Those are just normal barrels." Kjelle growls.

"Not quite lass." The captain grabs the lid of one of the barrels and deftly pulls it off. Peering over, I can see… water. It's just water.

"It's water." Kjelle states flatly, apparently agreeing with me.

"Then yer looking at the wrong thing." The captain says. "Look at the barrel."

I don't see what he's talking about and apparently neither does Kjelle, but Morgan is more perceptive than us. "It's thick."

"Right you are." The blind man says with a smile. "Barrel's got two walls to it, and an inch o' salt between 'em. Ain't many bugs or vermin that are gonna fancy digging through that to get to the goods. Not cheap to make, but it if keeps the food an' drink safe who are we t'argue?" He puts the lid back on. "Also, when removin' food or drink a sailor now gotta have clean hands. Didn't before, and sometimes it caused some nasty molds of funguses. A simple fix, but a mighty useful one."

"Hmm…" Kjelle frowns. It's unclear if she's convinced or just annoyed that she was proven wrong about the food being terrible.

"We also got a ship cat. Don't know where the little lady has gone off to, but she keeps the rats away." The captain continues. "O'course we can't do anythin' about the food gettin' old, so it ain't gonna be fresh, but we can keep it from rottin' or getting eaten by somethin' else. Smokin' or boilin' the food before eatin' it also helps to stave off the bugs, just as a safety measure."

That's honestly not half bad. I was expecting a much more lackadaisical attitude towards food safety considering the time period, but he seems to have most of the bases covered. Clean hands, pest control, additional measures to kill anything on the food before eating it... that's pretty solid.

"I'm surprised it took so long to come up with this." Morgan muses. "Was it really that hard to think up?"

"Mostly it was just that no one wanted to put in the money." The captain huffs. "Salt ain't expensive, but several dozen kilograms o' anything except dirt ain't exactly cheap. Once it got figured out that we'd have to put some money into it, we got far pretty quickly. I think I still have one o' the older tries…"

He takes a moment to tap around with his staff, occasionally pushing aside a crate or barrel. Eventually he finds what he's looking for and waves us over.

"See this here?" He taps a unique crate. It has a concave curve to its sides and metal studs dotting every edge. "Originally this was what we were goin' with. The shape keeps rats from bein' able to bite the sides, an' the metal stops 'em from chewin' through the edges. Didn't deal with the bugs though, so no one went for it."

"Couldn't you have just made this two-walled and used salt as well?"

"Sure." The captain nods. "But that's even more money and effort than the barrel because of the studs, and it takes up a lot more space 'cause of the shape. The barrel made more sense in the end."

"Cool…" And I mean that genuinely. This is fascinating to me, if not particularly relevant to anything. I just like learning new things (as long as it doesn't involve homework or something, that really kills the enjoyment).

"That's really all there is to the new food measures." The captain admits. "A new barrel and clean hands, but it's made a world o' difference."

"I'll take your word for it." I nod.

"I'll believe it when I taste my food." Kjelle mutters. However, with her curiosity satisfied, she leaves to join Noire in the room.

"I think she doesn't like it when she's wrong." Morgan notes cheerfully. "Anyhow, that was enlightening."

"Glad you're interested." The captain smiles. "It's not often someone is enthusiastic about learning such things."

"It's fun to learn." I say. I mean that with only partially honestly. It's fun to know how things work, even if you'll inevitably forget in two days. The effort to remember something through repetition is zero fun, homework in school has proven that time and time again, but the facts themselves are interesting.

"Aye." The captain smiles. He looks like he's going to say more, but footsteps and loud voices become audible above deck. I can't make out what they're saying, but I can tell by their tone that some of them are complaining or bickering. "And there are the boys… I better wrangle them to order. We'll leave soon, just stay outta the way as we prepare. I'll tap on yer door when we're underway. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

Me and Morgan make our way to our room as the captain splits off from us to go above deck. I can see his entire demeanor change as he walks up the stairs. He goes from calm, and walking with a smooth gait to suddenly having a swagger and holding his head up so he's looking down his nose at everyone when he emerges on deck. His voice also suddenly raises to a harsh shout as he barks orders and yells down complaints and excuses from his men.

"There we go." Morgan nods. "That's more what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"Well when I found him yesterday he was yelling at his men, so I was a bit surprised this morning when he was all nice and calm." Morgan explains. "I mean, he was calmer when I talked to him too, but with all his men around I think he wanted to keep a tough front at the time."

Ahh, okay. So it's that sort of culture. Gotta look strong and _manly_ or the men won't respect you, right? Maybe? Okay, I don't really know, I'm making a guess. Maybe he doesn't mind acting tough. I don't need to jump to the conclusion that he puts on a mask.

Opening the door, me and Morgan get our first look at what will be our room for the next week. It's… literally just beds, which is to be expected. At least the beds have mattresses though. Maybe not good ones, but hey, we have blankets and bedrolls to pad those out if we need to.

The first thing Kjelle says when we enter is: "There are no bugs in the beds, I checked." She sounds off-put by that. I think she's just looking for something to complain about at this point. She _wants_ to find something wrong.

"Cool!" Morgan gazes at the two bunk beds and points at one. "I call top!"

I shoot that down instantly. "No way."

"What? Why not!?"

"Need I recall a certain burned face you got?"

"What does that have to do with-"

"I'm not going to let you into a position where you'll roll out of bed and fall two meters to the ground." I say. "You're on the bottom."

"You just want the top, don't you?"

"No, actually, I really don't feel comfortable on the top."

That peaks Morgan's interest. "You've slept in beds like this before?"

"Bunk beds? Yeah. I have three siblings. When we were younger we had two bunk beds."

"So you're just being mean then." Morgan pouts.

"Yes, I'm being cruel, condemning you to the lower bunk like the _lowlife_ you are."

Mogan makes an exaggerated gasp. "How _dare_ you! A lowlife? Call me anything else, but not a _lowlife_! Such a label is the ultimate insult!"

" _Anything_ else?"

"Call me a bitch, a whore, or any other name! I care not!" Morgan proclaims. "And give me the top bunk!"

"Know your place." I huff, and turn up my nose at her. "A woman's place is on the _bottom_ , you… you…"

Morgan waits for me to finish so she can continue the joke, but when I hesitate a smile creeps across her face. "Nathan, I basically just gave you permission to insult me."

"Well, as a joke…"

"Nathan, you can insult me if it's a joke or sarcastic." She leans forward and wiggles her eyebrows. "Or for _fun times_ , if we get to that point."

"There are _other fucking people_ in the room!" Kjelle says loudly. I'm actually glad for the interruption this time, because it means I don't have to fumble through an answer to Morgan's words. "You can sort out your beds without innuendos thank you very much."

"That's no fun." Morgan huffs. "But fine… I'm on top."

"I already said no, and I stand by that." I retort. "I won't have you cracking your head open when you fall off."

"Umm…" Noire says quietly. "Couldn't me and Kjelle just take the top beds…?"

"Don't give them leeway Noire." Kjelle mutters to the other girl. "They can sort it out themselves, on _their_ side of the room."

"Come on Nathan!"

"If you try to go on top I'm tying you to the bed so you don't fall." I threaten.

Morgan's smile quirks into a wide grin, and she's visibly fighting not to joke about that. I'm starting to think my jokes about Morgan being a lewd girl are much more accurate than I ever expected them to be. That's certainly a character trait that didn't come up in the game. "But you just said you don't like being on top either."

"Can you two _not_ speak in innuendo?" Kjelle snaps.

I kinda hadn't realized I was doing that. Judging by Morgan's barely contained laugh, she very much knew. I expect my face is red at the moment, though I don't want to ask to confirm. "I- well- I'm just concerned that-"

"Fiiiiine, I'll sleep on the bottom." Morgan interrupts with an amused huff. "But you can join me if you want."

" _Morgan._ " Kjelle growls darkly.

Morgan actively ignores Kjelle. "It'll be like back in the inn when we met, yeah? If you don't want the top, but don't want me to have it because we're worried, then we can just share. It's not like we haven't before, right?"

"Uh, right." I blink. That was not the result I was expecting, though by this point I think I should be anticipating Morgan's utter confidence and lack of embarrassment to result in suggestions like this. "S-Sure. That works."

Morgan then turns towards Kjelle with a wide, mocking smile and a simpering tone. "There, we sorted out our side of the room. Are you happy, _lady knight_?"

"Fuck you." Kjelle replies flatly.

She doesn't tell us to change the plan though. Morgan looks very smug after that.

###

Morgan has no fear. A room full of big burly men who've done nothing but cuss and complain and shout all day? Not intimidating at all to Morgan. She's ready to stride into the mess room without a single worry. Even Kjelle looks reluctant, and Noire outright worried. I'm feeling a bit nervous myself. I'll be in trouble if I have to talk to any of the sailors I think. I'm awkward at the best of times, and I'm not sure how much I can hide behind Morgan here.

Morgan is either oblivious to our apprehension (unlikely) or choosing not to talk about it. She does grab my arm before we walk in though, giving me some level of reassurance.

It's not that all eyes in the room turn to us, just most of them. The sailors look exactly like I expected them to look. Tall, muscular, sometimes tattooed, always intimidating.

Well, intimidating to _me_ , because I'm a coward. Being the same height as them in this body really doesn't help. I mostly try not to look at them, instead choosing to focus on Morgan and trying to ignore the stares. Kjelle is apparently going with the "glare at everyone" strategy while Noire is doing her best to not be seen at all by hiding behind me and Kjelle.

There's no food selection. Everyone has the same thing. That said, the meal is well-rounded. There's a large slice of meat, some dried peaches, some cheese, and some simple bread. (How expensive is cheese? Actually, how expensive is meat? How expensive is this meal? If it is expensive, how can a sailing crew afford all of it?) Also, water. There's beer, but our whole group takes water, even Kjelle. I was expecting her to take beer to be honest.

No one tries to talk to us as we get our food from the cook and sit down at an empty table in the corner of the room. It's fairly notable how the talk in the room has died down though. I don't want to look up to see everyone staring at us. I don't want to see the expressions on their faces.

Morgan jumps into the corner seat as soon as quick as she can, and I take a seat next to her. Kjelle sits across from Morgan and next to me with her back facing the room, and Noire takes the seat next to them and across from me.

"So Kjelle." Morgan says cheerfully, after the rest of us have taken a few nervous bites. "How's the food?"

I recognize the taunt for what it is. Kjelle does to, but they're in a room full of people who probably wouldn't appreciate her making a negative comment about their cook so regardless of her actual opinion she's forced to say (albeit with a glare and gritted teeth) "It's fine..."

The food actually is fine. I mean, I'm an extraordinarily picky eater, so I wouldn't say I _like_ most of the food, but it's no worse than anything else we've eaten so far.

With Morgan's taunt to break the tension, all of us relax slightly. We're still on alert, but none of us constantly feel the urge to look over our shoulders. Besides, I've noticed that Morgan is doing that for us. She's sitting in the corner, so that means she's facing the rest of the room, and while she does glance at us when talking she also lets her eyes wander over the rest of the room.

I wonder if she intentionally took the corner seat so she could do that.

I'm tempted to ask what she's noticed, because there are times when her eyes rest on _something_ that I don't want to turn my head to see for fear of drawing attention. I don't want to ask now though, so I mostly stay quiet.

As we eat, our own table is relatively quiet, so I listen to the talk coming from the other tables. There's a lot of general stuff. Tall tales about giant wolves and monsters (that are apparently super dangerous but they all managed to beat single-handedly. I call bullshit), bragging about skill in the most arbitrary things like flipping coins to always land on a certain side, sometimes talk of family (usually parents and siblings), and also a lot of talk of what they hope to do when they reach port.

Apparently a lot of the sailors have an interest in the… women there. Actually, it's mostly talk of their beauty and how "it would be nice to get a high class lady". So I guess there's a lot of rich people on the island? I guess that makes sense. It's literally called the island of money… or silver. I can't remember. I never liked learning French.

Some of the talk is vulgar, and I mostly try to tune that out. There's not as much of it as I expected which is nice, it's still there.

As our meal drags on (there's quite a bit of food on our plates just as there is for the sailors, they eat a lot apparently) people in the room get progressively more drunk. Though when I hear some raised voices that might signify a fight, it's immediately followed by a bark from the captain as he orders both of the men to their beds, and to my surprise the two listen without putting up much of a fight (although with no lack of grumbling). Judging by the chuckles that follow, this is a standard occurrence.

We go through almost the entire meal without any sort of interaction from the rest of the room. I don't know if that's because of Morgan or not. Maybe her occasional pauses are her staring someone down? I don't know. However, I did say "almost" the entire meal. Someone _does_ decide they have to talk to us as we're finishing up our meals. I realize they're coming by Morgan suddenly shifting her attention to something to my left and visibly straightening up in her chair.

Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that he's slightly drunk. He swaggers up to our table (though the effect is a bit ruined by a stumble at the last second) and leans into the space between Kjelle and Noire. "Greetings there ladies." He says with a wide, dopey smile. "Uh, and you." He nods clumsily to me, clearly as an afterthought. "The captain said we had some rich-like passengers this trip. We don't usually get those 'cause they all take them fancy boats or have their own, s-so I'm curious why you're all travellin' with us folk."

The question seems mostly directed at Noire, because that's who the man is mostly looking at, but it's Morgan who responds. "Funnily enough, money." Morgan says calmly. She locks eyes with the man when he looks her way, keeping his attention on her. "A nice ride is pricey, and there's no reason to waste money on that when there's a perfectly good ride available here for a far more reasonable price."

Morgan must have said something right, because the man's smile gets even wider and he starts to nod rapidly. "Ain't it? It's been a long time since we had some nice fa… nice people on board with us. Nice to have smart people."

That's a bit of a non sequitur, but hey, he's drunk, and he doesn't seem that bad. When he staggered up to the table I was expecting some bad flirting, but he was just curious. That's not so bad.

The man babbles for a minute or two, during which Morgan when he eventually realizes he has nothing more to say or ask, and I feel a lot more calm for the rest of the meal.

I do take the chance to talk with Morgan before we have to turn in for the night. I'm still curious about her looking around the room. "Hey Morgan."

"Hmm?" She hums while studying the chess board in front of her. Her hands hover over her bishop then flick to a pawn before pulling back indecisively.

"What did you notice during dinner?" I question. "You did a lot of looking around."

"I was just taking stock of the room and the people in it." She explains absently. "Captain sits in the middle of the room so he can hear everything, probably so he can stop fights. He intentionally left us a corner table free so we could avoid attention as much as possible if we wanted. There's no reason that table would be unoccupied otherwise, because some of the other tables were looking quite cramped. Second in command took a corner of the room like me so he could see everything. He was watching us for the first ten minutes or so. Also, I think the corner table we got was chosen because it was the furthest away from where the potential problem people usually sit. All the louder and more vulgar sailors seemed to be on the other side of the room."

"Oh." I blink. I was expecting a few minor notes, or maybe an observation on some unusual way someone dressed or a trinket they had or personality traits, not an analysis of the seating plan. I forget she's a tactician, so in hindsight it makes sense that she'd take stock of the positions of important people and possible threats. Also, she confirmed that she intentionally took the corner seat to watch the room.

"Also." She murmurs in a more quiet voice. From the way she glances at the other bunk (we're playing on our bed right now). "That guy that was talking to us near the end?"

"Yeah?"

"He was glancing at Noire the whole night. I'm pretty sure he was going to hit on her and then chickened out when I replied rather than her." Morgan whispers. "Not that I think he was any particular threat, he was just interested, but still. Noire knew she would attract more attention than the rest of us, and she'd be unhappy to know she was right."

"What do you mean she'd attract more attention?" I whisper back.

Morgan raises an eyebrow. Rather than say something, she gestures towards her chest, makes a cupping motion, then subtly towards Noire. Even I'm not stupid enough to mistake what she means, and in hindsight it's obvious. Noire is easily the most physically attractive of all of us (at least by common standards), so of _course_ she'd attract more attention. Morgan was specifically referring to the fact that Noire is busty, but in hindsight that was really obvious and I just wasn't thinking. I nod to show my understanding.

Morgan wins the game to the surprise of exactly no one, and with the sound of footsteps and the ship's crew going to sleep, we collectively decide it's time to turn in.

###

Normally I'd wake up well after Morgan, but it's a bit hard to stay asleep with her crawling over me to get out of bed. That's not really a problem though. I might sleep for ten hours, but I only really need six, so when she says she's going to get breakfast I follow along.

Kjelle's bed is empty, she must already be up. Probably training. Noire, as expected, is still sound asleep.

The mess room is much less crowded than it was at dinner, probably because some people are already working. I have to watch my step as I move through the room due to the swaying of the ship. It's a lot more noticeable today than it was yesterday. Morgan's balance is much better than mine. I think it might be because she's less top-heavy, or maybe it's her combat training.

Everything is a lot less noisy now too. There's generally less talking… maybe because people are hungover. Actually, that's probably it now that I think about it more.

"You know." Morgan says through a mouthful of food. "It-" she swallows, realizing she can't talk like that. "It occurs to me that we never asked about the island. I have a few guesses, but asking around couldn't hurt. We want to know what we're getting into."

"Right."

"Though I can make a few guesses from last night." Morgan adds. "That guy who talked to us mentioned expensive boats to the island, so I'm going to guess the island is a real rich person's place. I mean, that's the reason I got us a ride on a supply ship. All the other rides were really expensive."

"This is a supply ship?"

"Yeah, what did you think it was?"

"Uh…" I actually have no idea. "I didn't give it that much thought."

Morgan rolls her eyes, amused.

"But an expensive getaway place huh? Is this like a resort?" I muse.

"A what?"

"A resort."

"What's a resort?"

"Vacation place, generally with lodging and entertainment and activities and such."

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't exist in this world." Morgan says. "I meant more that I think rich people have homes or cottages here or something like that."

"Oh." I mumble. "That makes a lot more sense." Something then occurs to me. "Hey… I've mentioned how Nah's paralogue goes before, right?"

"Something about her walking around in a Risen-infested manor."

"Yeah, and that supports the idea that the island is a rich place. There's at least one manor on it."

"True." Morgan nods. "I have to wonder how Nah got into an abandoned manor though."

"Who says it's abandoned beforehand?" I offer.

"Ahh…" Morgan's brow furrows in consideration. "That's true. That might make finding her more complicated too if we can't find that manor as a starting point."

"Assuming she's even around there at the moment. She might be wandering the island." I add. "Who knows how long she was in the manor before the Shepherds arrived in her paralogue. It might be a week, it might be less than an hour."

"That's true." Morgan says. "Okay, so we'll have to find some other search method."

"And what method might that be?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "I'll think of something."

###

Me and Morgan come up on deck to find an odd sight. Kjelle is apparently up here, and she has some sailor pinned to the deck while several others cheer her on. Even the captain is listening to the spectacle with a smirk on his face.

"Should I be surprised Kjelle got into a fight so quickly?" I whisper to Morgan.

"I'm surprised it took this long to begin with!" She says cheerfully. "I was expecting this to happen yesterday!"

Morgan moves over to the captain and I follow behind, casting nervous glances at the… wrestling match(?) going on a little ways down deck.

"So, who pissed her off?" Morgan asks the man eagerly. Pulls herself up onto a barrel and kicks her legs. "Or did she anger someone else?"

"She was trainin'." The captain chuckles. "One o' the lads had the bright idea to challenge her to a spar, thinkin' it would be an easy way to impress her."

"He thought it would be an easy win?" Morgan snickers.

"Yep. I told him otherwise, so this is all on him." The captain says. "This is the closest fight it's been, from what I was told she almost threw knocked 'im overboard when they were usin' weapons."

If this is the closest fight so far, the other ones must have been total curbstomps. Kjelle is half this guy's height and not nearly as muscular as him, but she's got him face-down on the deck while she sits on his waist and has his arms forced behind his back. The expression on his face is a cross between furious and a sneering smile.

I think she's having fun. Fun in the self-righteous noob-stomping sort of way, but fun. To each their own I suppose.

"By the way, where are the nervous ones?" The captain asks. "The men are curious. They've been wantin' to talk to all of ya since yesterday, but I told 'em to hold 'emselves back for a bit. Ain't gonna last the whole week though."

"The nervous one? You mean Noire?"

"And the boy. Yer partner."

"Uhh…" I mumble. "I'm here."

"Ah, you're quiet boy."

Not really. I think everyone else is just noisy.

"You might have to do some talkin' today. Just to let ya know."

"Noted." I say quietly. That doesn't sound fun.

We all watch (or listen to in the captain's case) the wrestling match for another minute until the poor sailor taps out. Then Morgan speaks again. "Hey, Nathan."

"Yeah?"

"Should I try? I want to try."

I'm confused. "Try what?"

"Sparring, wrestling! I wanna see how it'll go! I've never tried wrestling."

"That… doesn't sound like something you'll win."

"You'd be surprised!" Morgan chirps. "I'm gonna do it."

"Go ahead…?" She doesn't need my permission. She was probably going to do that regardless of my response. Why is she dragging this out?

She turns and looks at me for a second. This feels like another one of those moments where I'm missing something she thinks is extremely obvious. I can't think of what that would be though. Am I supposed to be concerned for her safety?

"You don't see a problem, do you?"

"No…?"

"Letting your girlfriend wrestle with burly men?"

Oh, okay. I guess it was the danger. "I mean, it's not like you're in danger here, so…"

Morgan stares again, then smiles and randomly gives me a hug. I awkwardly return the gesture, not exactly sure what it's about. "I'm glad you're not the jealous type."

_Oh_. That's what she meant by letting her wrestle with burly men. Okay, again, in hindsight that was obvious. How often do I miss things this obvious? "I'm not about to try and dictate what you can and can't do. Do what you want regardless of what I say."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far." Morgan says. "Your opinion isn't irrelevant, I was just happy you weren't going to be petty about it."

"Right." I made this too serious again, didn't I? "Have fun."

"I will! Hold my coat." She quickly slides out of her coat and hands it to me. "I'm gonna wrestle someone to the ground, just you watch!"

I take and carefully fold her coat. I can feel bulges and hard places where she has things stored in the pockets. Hopefully there's nothing too delicate in there. "Sure. I'll have a vulnerary ready when that inevitably doesn't happen."

"Just you wait, I'm to prove you wrong. I'm going to win because I'm a genius." Morgan brags.

"And genius has always been the deciding factor in tests of strength." I reply sarcastically. It's also occurring to me that I've almost never seen Morgan without her coat on. It's nothing remarkable, she still has her baggy beige shirt and pants on as well as her boots, but it's something I haven't really seen before. It never really occurred to me how thin she was. The belt around her hips gives me an idea of her actual size because it's tight to her body, and I could probably fit my hands around her waist if the belt is any indication. Also, her arms are pretty thin too. Not stick-thin, but there's not a lot of meat on them. I could probably make a ring around her forearm with my pointer and thumb.

It's also occurring to me that if she's thin now, who knows how thin she might have been beforehand. We still don't know if she came from a bad future or not, so I have no idea if she's recovering from malnourishment and that's why she's so thin or just because she's naturally small. Also, my perspective of her size is very skewed by my new body. Maybe she's a lot more normal than I think and it's just because everyone looks smaller than I'm used to from my old body that she looks really thin.

"She's an eager one, ain't she?" The captain says.

It takes me a moment to realize he's talking to me. I nod silently, remember he's blind, then say "Ah, uh, yeah. She is. No fear."

"I can tell that. From what Rory, that's my second, told me she was starin' people down all last night."

"From what I'm aware she was just reading the room." I say honestly.

"Maybe so. It was just a guess from Rory." The captain shrugs.

With Kjelle's fight over, Morgan walks straight into the middle of the group and, without any preamble, chirps "I want to fight too!"

The reaction to that is mixed. Some sailors scoff, some laugh, and some elbow each other and mutter something while grinning. I'm fairly sure most of them think Morgan is being ridiculous. Once they're done laughing or whatever, one of the sailors steps forward with a smile on his face that I can only describe as haughty. "If you're really sure about it girl, I'll _happily_ play with ya."

You'd think after Kjelle thoroughly mopped the floor with them that they'd be less overconfident. Also, "play" with her? How patronizing.

"So, is Albinus going to lose?" The captain asks as Morgan and the sailor set the terms of the match. No weapons, no eye gouging or permanent injuries, otherwise anything goes. First one to surrender or be put in a position where they can't escape for more than ten seconds loses.

"Well…" As much as I joked that Morgan was going to lose, I've sparred with her before, even unarmed, and she's always won. "Does he have any combat training?"

"Not really."

"Yeah he's screwed." Morgan holds back when she spars with me for the purposes of teaching, so if she doesn't have to hold back she's probably going to win this. It's not a wrestling match like I expected. If this was a wrestling match _then_ Morgan might lose, but in a hand-to-hand fight against someone untrained I expect her to kick ass.

The fight takes a few minutes, though that's only because both sides are toying with the other. Morgan spends the first five seconds after the match starts studying her opponent, and Albinus, being cocky, waits with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. When Morgan suddenly takes a step forward he scoffs and slowly unfolds his arms… which gives Morgan the time to kick him sharply in the side of the stomach.

Albinus grunts in surprise and swings an arm to try and bat Morgan away, and Morgan promptly grabs him by the wrist and twists his arm in response to such a clumsy attack.

That gets a yelp and a growl out of the sailor and he actually starts trying to a certain extent. He kicks and punches to get Morgant to let go (which Morgan does, though she seems amused as she does it. I think she's toying with him because she's realized he doesn't actually know how to fight). As soon as she does he takes a step back while grabbing his wrist, then (probably realizing that everyone is watching him and snickering) he straightens up and says "so you actually know what you're doing, huh? I suppose I'll have to start trying."

"Oh good, I was feeling a bit underwhelmed!" Morgan says cheerfully. "I was expecting a _fight_ , not a training dummy."

The man's expression darkens a bit, and an angry smile crosses his face. "You'll get a fight if you want it."

Morgan waits for her foe to attack. Albinus rushes forwards and stretches his arms out, going for some sort of grab, and Morgan effortlessly ducks under one of his arms and trips him with her leg. He falls hard to the floor, and Morgan says. "So, when exactly were you going to start trying? Should I wait a moment, or…?"

Albinus is silent as he rolls to his feet and lets fly a series of punches at the girl. Morgan calmly dodges and deflects his flailing arms without any sort of counter attack for a few seconds.

"Oh, is this what you meant?" She asks, feigning disappointment. "Well, if that's all, then I suppose I should fight back."

"Don't mock me you little-" Albinus is cut short by Morgan snapping out a jab that hits his throat and sends him staggering back, weezing, until he falls onto his butt. He's still gasping for breath while Morgan walks up and calmly plants a foot on his chest, forcing him fully to the ground.

"So, anyhow, you lose." Morgan says calmly. She glances up at everyone watching, some of them are laughing and some of them look genuinely surprised. Kjelle is nodding approvingly with a smirk on her face. She then looks to me, smiles widely, and waves an arm. "See Nathan? I won! Because I'm a _genius_!"

It had nothing to do with you being a genius. Albinus was incompetant. However I say something simple to respond because I don't want to be snarky or sarcastic when there are other people listening. Besides, she was still rather impressive. "Indeed you did. Good job Morg."

Morgan looks like she's going to say something else, but apparently Albinus decided he wasn't done yet despite having clearly lost. With his breath (mostly) regained he grabs Morgan by the leg and pulls it out from under her. "You- You bitch. Did you think I would-"

He's cut short again because Morgan doesn't really care if he has time to say his bit or not. As soon as she's pulled to the ground she uses her other leg to plant a kick squarely in his face, and she grabs one of his fingers that are holding her leg and starts to harshly pull it backwards, forcing him to release her so he can pull away or risk her breaking it.

"Albinus!" The captain barks, but it's unnecessary. Within two seconds there are six pairs of hands on the sailor pulling him away, and Kjelle is looming over him with her spear, her actual one, held in her hand.

I shrink back as the captain stomps forward to yell at Albinus, who now has blood on his face. Morgan returns to me looking rather unaffected. She's smiling in fact. I silently hand her back her coat and she slips it back on while saying "I think that went rather well!"

"Sure."

"You're freaking out, aren't you?"

"Only slightly. It's not me who just broke someone's nose."

"His finger actually. That blood is from his lip." She says cheerfully. "You'd be surprised how much power solid boots can add to a kick. I think I might have hit the right spot to chip a tooth or two!"

"Uh, right." Okay, _there's_ her sadism. Guess the game wasn't totally inaccurate about that.

"Anyhow, I don't expect we'll have any issues from now on." Morgan hums. "We can tell Noire she doesn't have to be so worried."

There were probably better ways to stop people from hitting on her, but I guess this works too. "Sure."

"You have no idea what to say, do you?"

"Not really."

"So." The captain's voice cuts in as he walks over to us. I can't read his expression. "Normally I'd apologize, but you sound mighty pleased with yerself lass. Somethin's tellin' me that went accordin' to a plan o' yours."

"Pretty much." Morgan says, unabashed. "I didn't expect to take it that far, but I _was_ trying to make a point."

The captain crosses his arms. "Well consider it made. None of the boys want anythin' to do with you after that. I'll thank you to _not_ intentionally start a real fight next time though."

"I won't. It shouldn't be necessary." Morgan says, still sounding quite smug and not at all apologetic.

The captain shakes his head and walks off. That could have gone better, but at least we didn't get punished for it.

"Morgan." I mutter as we move to the front of the ship. "Did you only take that fight to make a point?"

"Pretty much." Morgan hums.

Right. Just say it. "So you lied to me."

Morgan straightens, her grin faltering. "What?"

"You told me that you wanted to try wrestling, not that you were planning on making a point." I murmur.

"Ah, well I figured you'd be nervous about that so I didn't mention it. I was actually hoping to wrestle _and_ make a point, but making a point came first." Morgan explains. Her hands are out in front of her, gesturing as she speaks. She doesn't normally do that.

"Right." I frown. "So not a lie?"

"An omission." She admits.

"Okay." I'm not trying to make this a big deal. I need to just speak my mind rather than dancing around the issue I see. "I'd rather you tell me outright next time what your plan is, or at least tell me that you don't want to tell me. It's not a big deal this time, but in the future, especially if something involves me…"

"Right." Morgan says rather quietly. "Sorry."

I hope I'm not making a big deal out of something that didn't happen. She didn't _lie_ to me exactly, she just didn't explain her motives. Maybe it's too much to ask that she confides her plans in me. Maybe that was an unreasonable ask. Fuck. "Again, you don't have to tell me, just… no _deception_ towards me please. Just making this clear now in case it's important in the future."

"Got it." Morgan nods.

"I-I hope that doesn't sound unreasonable-"

"No, it makes sense." Morgan agrees. "It's not unreasonable to ask me to be trustworthy Nathan."

"Ah, good." My heart beat slows down. I didn't realized my adrenaline had started to pump until it starts to wear off. "What exactly was the plan anyways? Did you encourage him to fight you specifically, or…?"

"Nah. Anyone would have been fine. Kjelle already proved she was strong, so I just wanted to knock someone around." Morgan explains. "So if both of us proved that we shouldn't be messed with, then the sailors would be unlikely to bother Noire because they'd assume she was strong too."

"That makes a certain amount of sense." I agree. "I didn't realize you were worried about that still."

"Not _worried_ exactly. Noire could handle herself." Morgan shrugs. "But if it makes things easy on her, I might as well, right?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Though maybe you shouldn't tell her you broke someone's finger for her sake."

"Maybe not." Morgan agrees.

A few hours later Kjelle complains that no one wants to spar with her anymore, and we both feign ignorance. Nobody talks to us at dinner that night.

###

The crew now treats Morgan with caution, and honestly she seems to enjoy it. She has no problem with walking right up to them and asking something, even if they're gathered in a group, without a hint of trepidation. It's impressive, at least for me, to watch her march right up to a group of ten large men who probably don't like her very much, get right up in their personal space, and ask some simple question with her nose slightly turned up at them, get a curt answer, then strut away without any sort of shame. She _knows_ she intimidates them and is throwing her weight around a bit.

The crew have softened a bit on Kjelle as she genuinely just wants to spar and hasn't been getting up in their faces, and they treat Noire politely (as politely as they know how) but distantly, apparently taking the approach that they don't know if she'll be like Kjelle or Morgan and don't want to take their chances.

Noire is relieved, though I don't think anyone told her why the crew now avoids her.

As for how the crew treats me, well…

Usually I stick with Morgan. There really isn't much to do on the ship, so naturally we're in each other's company all the time. That means I've never actually interacted with any of the crew one-on-one except for the Captain, and with Morgan around they've obviously been more focused on her than me.

However, the one moment Morgan isn't around (we were having lunch, and she stepped out to use the restroom) one of the crew immediately marches straight over to me, obviously having been waiting for just the moment when Morgan wasn't around, plants his hands on the table, and leans over me with a deep scowl on his face.

"Listen 'ere ya bastard." He growls. "You can't be lettin' yer girl run amok like these. All of 'em! You let 'em fight and walk 'round wherever they want without any sort o' discipline!"

Yeah, sure. I doubt you had a problem _before_ Morgan wrecked Albinus. You probably would have been more than happy to spar with her or have a chance to talk with her. It's only now that she intimidates you that there's a problem. I could take the antagonistic route and say "what? Scared of a little girl?" but that seems like a bad idea, I'm too much of a coward, and honestly they have a good reason to be wary of Morgan. Instead I say "I'm not in charge of Morgan. Actually, she's in charge of our little group, so if anything she's in charge of me."

"You let a little girl order you around?" He sounds disgusted, or maybe disappointed? His scowl has turned to an ugly sneer. "What? Are you a servant?"

"Well no…" My voice is quavering. I hate confrontation.

"So you're just pathetic then." The man scoffs. He leans even closer. His face is probably only a few inches away. "Look. Man up and keep that bitch under control, or _we_ will."

"Oh really?" Morgan's voice, cheerful and amused and probably fake, cuts through the air. The man instantly turns his head around to locate her, only to find that she's right next to him and leaning in just as close to his face as he is to mine. I hadn't even noticed that Morgan had returned. I do notice she not-so-subtly has one hand on her sword though. "Keep me under control, hmm? Do tell me how, I'd be more than happy to have another fight. The last one was so _unsatisfying_. If you want to volunteer to spar I'd more than welcome another round."

The man's jaw works as he tries to find the right words to say. He shoves off the table and tries to loom over Morgan, and she replies by taking a calm step towards him to which he instantly takes a step back, ruining his attempt at intimidation and solidifying Morgan's.

"Look." Morgan says with a smile on her face and ice in her voice. "If you have a problem with me, you talk to me. If you scare my boyfriend again, I will go into your room at night and chop off your dick. Understood?"

_That_ certainly gets a reaction out of everyone in the room. There were some other sailors in the room that were listening in that stiffen in their seats, and the man who threatened me visibly flinches. There's silence in the room for a minute, then the man gathers his nerve and starts speaking, only for his voice to quickly raise to a shout. "I don't know who ya think ya are that you can just come onto _our_ ship and start pushin' us around, but we ain't gonna put up with that! I don't care if the captain let's ya get away with it, we'll throw you overboard before putin' up with your shit for a second longer!"

"So you try and get Nathan to keep me in line?" Morgan scoffs. She stands up straight, completely unfazed, and looks down her nose at the man. "Like I said before, if you have a problem with me, talk with _me_. We can sort it out. Don't think you can get away with threatening someone's companions and get away with it. Don't pretend you have some sort of moral high ground here."

"Oh sure, talk!" The man snaps. "Like you gave Alb the chance to talk before breakin' a finger! Don't _lie_ to me! You wouldn't give us a chance!"

"Oh, is that it?" Morgan sneers outright, abandoning her calm facade. "Conveniently forgetting that _he_ attacked me when the fight was over, are we? How short your memory is for things that don't suit you."

"That's not what this is about!"

"Isn't it? You just brought up that I broke his finger." Morgan leans forward into his personal space again, though this time the man doesn't/ back down so they remain nose-to-nose.

"You've been pushin' us around all day." The man growls back. "That's what this is about."

"I've been keeping you in your place." Morgan says with a savage smile. "Because you might all be big, but I proved that you're all just thugs who rely on intimidation to get what you want, and as soon as you find someone who actually knows how to fight then you're just _weak_."

"We are not!"

Morgan's hand goes to her sword, and he backsteps. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I- look here." He growls. "I don't know what your problem is. You were starin' us down well before that fight when we didn't do nothin'."

"Don't think I didn't notice you all staring at Noire before." Morgan says. "She was nervous. She was _obviously_ nervous, yet one of you tried to hit on her the _very first night_."

"He was drunk." The man says in exasperation. "Besides, this is our ship, we can get drunk on it if we want to! You paid to be here when you coulda taken another ship! We're a shippin' vessel, we don't usually take people across! If we ain't the picture o' politeness that's your damn problem! We don't work on 'ere to act all polite, your fuckin' _highness_!"

Silence again falls over the room as the two of them stare each other down. I'm still watching from the sidelines, desperately hoping this will be over soon. I don't know if I should try and defuse the situation or maybe pull Morgan away, or if that would just make things worse. I don't necessarily think either side is totally innocent. Morgan _has_ been throwing her weight around and intentionally antagonizing the crew, and this guy does have a point that it's unreasonable to expect them to change everything they're doing just because us four came aboard, but at the same time drunkenness is not an excuse for poor behaviour nor was Albinus taking a cheap shot when the fight was already over acceptable.

Actually, that one guy that tried to flirt wasn't all that bad. Morgan cut him off before he really had the chance to say anything to Noire, but considering his introductory ramble he was actually rather polite about it. It's not a crime to flirt. He chose an unbelievably bad target at a very poor time, but… well, I've been oblivious before. Who's to say he wasn't as well? So the real problem is Albinus, and any leering that might have happened (not that I would know, I was avoiding looking at anyone).

It's occurring to me now that this whole situation was basically set up for a conflict to happen. All four of us _assumed_ there was poor intention from the crew without confirming anything, and then Morgan jumped at the chance to punish negative behaviour and extrapolate Albinus' negative attitude to be the attitude of the whole crew and accordingly treated them as dangers to be kept in their place.

At least, that's what I think happened. I'm also usually awful at reading situations, so I could be very wrong. It also doesn't help me figure out what to do at the moment.

Thankfully, I don't have to do anything, because the captain is here. I think he might have been here for a bit, he was just letting the two of them shout each hoarse (or maybe he was listening to both sides) before he stepped in. "Alright you two, sit down."

"Captain-!" They both say at the same time, with obvious pleading in their voice for intervention on their half. The hard furrow to his brow stops them in their tracks, and both the man and Morgan do as he says and sit.

"Look here." The captain sighs. He too takes a seat. He first points to Morgan. " _You_ have intentionally been intentionally causin' trouble, pushin' around my crew, and you been doin' in when I outright told ya not to."

"But-" Morgan tries to protest, but the captain holds up a hand.

"I know you have reasons. You feel like you gotta protect the shy ones." The captain says. "But I don't care at the moment. You ain't been goin' about it well." He then points to the other man. "And you, and Albinus I s'pose. I already talked with 'im. I told _all_ o' you to keep your opinions in check, and yet Rory been tellin' me that you all been laughing and jokin' behind my back about our passengers, or makin' unsavory comments 'bout the ladies, and you _know_ what I think about that. I don't want to hear ya defendin' Albinus either. He went to far and got punished, plain an' simple. "

The man cringes in his seat, looking appropriately ashamed.

"I'm gonna talk with the rest o' the crew 'bout this too." The captain says. "But I expect y'all, _both_ sides 'ere, to stop trying to start a fight an' to stop tryin' to scare the other, got it? No more pushin' the crew 'round lass, and Jarvin, if I hear 'bout you threatenin' one o' the passengers again, 'specially one who wasn't even part o' this problem, I'm throwin' you off the ship meself."

"Yes Captain." The man, Jarvin, says quickly.

"Fine…" Morgan grumbles. The captain crosses his arms, and I frown and nudge Morgan, and she reluctantly complies by saying: "Yes Captain."

"Good. Now I don't want to hear _any_ more complaints for the rest o' the trip from either side, got it?" The captain warns. He then gets up and grabs his staff. "Jarvin."

"Y-Yes Captain?"

"Pass on what I said to the rest o' the crew."

"Yes Captain!"

Jarvin quickly flees the room as soon as the Captain leaves. Me and Morgan silently finish our food and drink before returning to our own room.

As soon as we're safely in our room (alone actually. Noire is up on deck with Kjelle, practicing with her dagger). Morgan speaks.

"I guess the captain isn't as nice as he first looked." She huffs. "Letting his crew get away with whatever they want for only a slap on the wrist, and then trying to scold _me_ for it? Rude."

"Not… really." I say hesitantly. "In my opinion he was rather lenient on both sides. You're not all in the right here either."

"What?" Morgan doesn't sound indignant exactly, just surprised. I think she expected me to agree with her.

"You have been bullying the crew." I remind her. "Maybe Albinus deserved part of what he got, and even then you arguably went too far by breaking his finger, and I appreciate you coming to my defence just now, but overall you haven't exactly been nice to them."

"They were scaring Noire!"

"That's partially just because Noire is really shy though." I remind her. "I'm not saying not to defend her, but you've been treating _all_ of them, even the people who haven't done anything, like they're beneath you."

"So you agree with the captain?" Morgan huffs.

"I… yes." I admit reluctantly. "Yeah, I do."

"Auuuugh." Morgan flops back onto the bed. "Fuck." She throws up her hands. "Fuck!"

"It's not that bad. You got off light."

"Yeah." Morgan grumbles. "But I felt like I was doing the right thing."

"Well I'd hope so, or else you were just being an ass for no reason at all."

"You're my boyfriend, aren't you supposed to take my side?" Morgan complains.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"Yeah I know." She sighs. "I'm just bitter."

I speak before I think. "Hi Bitter."

Morgan rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "Really?"

"Right, sorry." I say with a straight face. "Hi Just Bitter."

A small laugh, more of a huff, exits Morgan's mouth and she groans right after. "Why am I laughing at that?"

"Because you have extremely low standards." I offer, now smiling. "And because you're slightly stressed."

"Yeah yeah…"

###

"So, Nathan."

"Hmm?"

"You had a family, right? I mean, obviously to some extent, but…"

"Parents, three younger brothers." I say quietly.

"What were they like?"

"Mom had high-paying jobs. Most recently she was chief compliance officer of a major investment firm. Think… like a bank. Not exactly like that, but sorta. Dad stayed at home raising us." I say. "Good with making things, and knows how to do electrical stuff. Never got a licence for it or anything, but there have been times when he's known more about what to do in a situation than actual electricians."

"And your brothers."

"Brats. Same with me actually. The one just below me is egotistical, and not in a fun way. He thinks everything is a joke and he can get away with being a dick because he assumes it's funny to everyone. He's gotten better over time, but it's never gone away." I say. "The one just under him I get along with best. We used to play together a lot. Board games, video games… we've drifted over time. He's also better than me at most things now. The youngest is weird. Has an attention disorder, couldn't read properly until he was ten, always copies us and refuses to admit that's what he's doing. Refuses to admit he's wrong in arguments as well. A real pain in the ass sometimes, but he's gotten better over time as well."

"Do you miss them?"

"My parents sure. My brothers… less so. I miss them more in the sense that I know they'll still be sad I'm gone and I don't like that, but it's not like I interacted much with them anymore." I say quietly. "My biggest problem is just that they don't know I'm alright. Being here would be a lot more tolerable if I knew my family knew I was alright or… or if they'd forgotten me because of weird magic, that would also make this better."

"Really?" Morgan sounds genuinely surprised.

"I mean, it would suck if they didn't know me, but I wouldn't have to worry about them anymore." I say quietly.

"You want closure."

"Yeah."

"Hopefully you'll be able to get it. Though I'm not exactly sure how." Morgan admits reluctantly. "We'll find some sort of magic, or… something."

"Yeah." I say again, still quiet. "Thanks."

I think Morgan feels bad about asking at all judging by how quiet she becomes herself, so I lean into her a bit to show there's no hard feelings.

###

"So…" I say at dinner one night as a thought creeps into my head. It's nothing important, I'm just curious. "What do you all plan to do when we get to Ylisstol eventually? Aside from finding your parents obviously."

"Oh, I want clothes!" Morgan chirps instantly. "I mean, I love my coat and all, but it would be nice to have something less warm, and also something more flattering because my coat is pretty bulky."

"How impractical." Kjelle scoffs.

"Hey, just because you're an ape who doesn't care about looks doesn't mean we all are." Morgan shoots back. "Anyhow… clothes would be nice, but I also want some more reading material, and maybe another board game would be nice. Oh, and I want to see a play! I remember Father taking me to a play once, I want to see another."

"I-I want to see the palace." Noire mumbles. "I never got to see it in our world. Brady told me it has all sorts of tapestries and colored glass windows. He… well he actually said it was big and borning, but it sounds cool to me. I also wouldn't mind getting some clothes I'm more used to."

"So what I'm hearing is that we're going to have a group shopping trip for clothes!" Morgan says cheerfully.

" _You_ can shop for clothes. _I_ don't need any." Kjelle huffs. "I want to find a blacksmith that will take custom orders for a new spear, and I could use some javelins for the future."

"Come on. Your outfit is just basic cloth." Morgan says, gesturing to what Kjelle is currently wearing. "You don't want _any_ new clothes? None at all? Not something more comfy, or something that looks more impressive and important?"

"Well…"

"Aha!" Morgan smiles smugly. "You do! You want some!"

Kjelle folds her arms. "I'm not coming with _you_ to get them."

"Aww c'mon… are we really that scary?" Morgan teases.

"You're _annoying_ , not scary."

"You just know I'm going to look fantastic and don't want me to show you up."

"That is _not_ it." Kjelle growls. "I don't care about that shit."

"Then you can come with us!" Morgan says triumphantly.

"No."

"Killjoy." Morgan pouts. Then she looks at me. "So what about you Nathan? What are you going to do?"

"Uh…" I blink. I hadn't considered that. "Probably also get new clothes so I don't look like a brigand. Start looking into the outrealm portal. Also… probably look at board games too. I doubt they'll be as good as back home, but there might be something fun."

"You just think our world sucks, don't you?" Kjelle asks accusingly.

"Yeah, pretty much." I say honestly. "Transportation is inconvenient and slow, entertainment is extraordinarily limited and often underwhelming, heating is inefficient and ineffective, there's no such thing as AC, it's hard to get access to information because the internet doesn't exist… yeah, this world kinda sucks compared to Earth, or at least compared to Canada. I mean, there are still some places on Earth that are real shitshows, but where I came from is not one of them."

"You better learn to like if you're going to be stuck here." Kjelle sneers.

"Oh I'll learn to live with it. But that will just mean I've _lowered my standards_ , not that this world is any better than I thought it was." I shoot back.

Kjelle's face contorts in disgust. I imagine she's feeling insulted at the moment, but I'm not backing down on this. This world _does_ suck compared to Earth. It's not the worst thing ever, it could be even more primitive, but it is flat-out worse. Yes, I'm speaking from a place of privilege here; my experience is upper-middle class on Earth so being reduced to medieval standards is that much more of a downgrade compared to someone already used to less-than-pleasant conditions, especially considering I was a shut-in that didn't deal with the outdoors where the outdoors is mandatory in medieval times, but that doesn't make the fact that this world is worse any less true, just more jarring for me specifically. By this point I've more-or-less gotten used to the inconveniences of this world, but being used to them doesn't make them any less unpleasant.

I also imagine if I ever had to live without Morgan this world would be that much more annoying, because she's been my replacement for the constant distraction the internet provided. I can't listen to songs or play video games all the time, but I can talk and play games with Morgan.

"You might not like this world, but you can't complain about the people in it, hmm?" Morgan asks with a grin. "You wouldn't insult your own girlfriend, would you?"

"I mean, you _did_ give me permission." I say cheekily.

"No flirting at the table." Kjelle snaps. "I swear to Naga…"

Morgan promptly leans over and wraps her arms around one of mine and rests her head on my shoulder. She sticks out her tongue as Kjelle fumes, and I decide to join in and stroke Morgan's hair with my other hand while keeping a flat expression as I gaze towards Kjelle.

"I hate you both."

Morgan blows a kiss and winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been having an internal debate on how exactly to handle what Morgan's character flaw should be, because before this chapter she really didn't have one. I didn't want to go with sadism, at least not primarily, because that didn't quite seem to fit this version of the character. Instead I went with making one of her greatest strengths (her absolute self-confidence) also a weakness in that she never considers for even a second that she might be doing something wrong unless it's explicitly pointed out to her because she has just that much faith in her own intelligence and moral compass.
> 
> I didn't come into this chapter expecting to deal with the ship trip for more than three thousand words. Instead it ended up being an entire ten thousand word chapter because it suddenly occurred to me that I had a perfect opportunity to explore Morgan's personality more and how it's not just Nathan that can mess up situations.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting on in the story, so Nathan is going to actually have to start doing things at some point. Not quite yet, but very soon. I should also mention, if I haven't before, that I intend for Nathan to be a non-combatant. I don't intend for him to be on the front lines like with most self-insert stories. I also don't intend for him to ever quite lose his social anxiety (because that's one of the most fun parts of his character to play with as a writer) though I will gradually reduce it to being less crippling. There's just a certain trigger I want to hit to make it seem natural, because right now he doesn't have too much of a reason to change. That trigger will be extremely obvious when it happens, but it probably won't be this chapter. You get to enjoy(?) Nathan as he is for just a little bit longer. Maybe a chapter or two more before some change starts happening.
> 
> I imagine you can guess what the trigger will involve based on the fact he'll start changing, but I'm also fairly sure you all anticipated it happening at some point anyways (though the original plan was for it to happen much later, but… well, you'll see. Remind me to explain what I meant if I forget when the trigger happens. If you care, anyways).

"But I had the center of the board." I mumble. "You stuck to the sides the entire time. The middle is supposed to be better."

"Well yeah, but you held the center at the expense of attack venues." Morgan points out. "Like, you may have had all your strong pieces in the middle, but I could get my rooks to your backline to bother your king. It doesn't help to hold the middle if you don't take advantage of it. Your bishops in the front were also hampering the ability of your rooks to actually threaten my center, so with my pawns walling your bishops, you were effectively paralyzed. Also, the fact that I didn't kill your pawns in the middle meant _they_ were also in the way of your attacks too. I jammed up the middle exactly because you were so obviously going for it, sacked my 1 and 8 pawns, then ran my rooks down the side and smashed your king."

"Ah." I frown. "Stop being so smart."

"Hey, you're getting better. You _did_ manage to take the center this time. Usually I snatch it, but you walled me out early on this time, despite the fact that you started second." She pauses, then adds. "Why _do_ you always play black? You said yourself that it puts you at a disadvantage."

"I just like the color black." I admit sheepishly. "That's literally it. There's no other reason. I think as a consequence of always playing black I basically don't know how to do offence, because I'm always reacting rather than acting."

"That sounds about right." Morgan nods. She starts putting the pieces back into place for another game, so I help. "Maybe you should start playing white then."

"But black is cool…" I whine jokingly with a smirk.

"Fine, then you just go first."

"Okay, I can get behind that." I nod. "I get black~!"

She rolls her eyes, smiling herself. "It's just a color."

"The _best_ color." I correct her. "I mean, technically it's not a color at all. True black is actually an absence of color entirely, like outer space. Black paint and all that is actually just another really dark color."

"Really? So what's white?"

"I can't remember exactly." I frown. "It's also not technically a color. They're both shades. Something light enough that it no longer resembles it's "base" color so to speak. I think it might also be every visible color at once, but don't quote me on that. I was much more interested in black then white."

"No really." She says sarcastically. "We've only played hundreds of games of chess and you've been white _maybe_ ten times."

"You're just jealous I take the _best_ color."

"Best? Pff. The best is _purple_." Morgan says, patting the designs on her coat. "Black is a close second, but purple is where it's at."

"Red is second. Purple is third." I file away Morgan's preferences for the future.

" _Red_? It's like I don't even know you anymore!" Morgan gasps.

"Who says you do? You still don't believe that this is an elaborate kidnapping attempt, which it totally is." I say flatly.

"Sure, sure."

"My point exactly."

"Your move by the way."

"Ah." I gaze at the chess board with all the pieces in their starting positions. "Shit."

"Already? You haven't even moved yet."

"I know." I mumble. "I'll just do the theoretically solid thing." I move my king's pawn forward two spaces. The standard e4 move.

"How much chess theory do you actually know?" Morgan questions, and flicks her queen's pawn up one space.

"Not much. Just some basic concepts and that one specific move." I admit sheepishly. "I've looked into it more than that, but I can never remember what I learned."

"Are you bad at remembering things?"

"If by that you mean I never practice them enough to remember, then yes." I say. "Too frustrating to do all that repetition."

"But that's how you get better."

I raise my eyebrow. "And? Minor improvement at something rarely feels satisfying when you have to spend several hours, or maybe dozens of hours, being frustrated at the process of learning. The improvement ends up feeling pyrrhic, bittersweet. At least for me there's no satisfaction and no sense of accomplishment. I have relief that I don't have to deal with the frustrating process of learning anymore, but that rarely makes it feel like I've actually done something worth my time."

"So you hate work." She says flatly.

"Basically." I nod. "I could be doing something fun, or something neutral, or _literally nothing_ , and it would feel better than working, because work is unsatisfying, frustrating, and usually unrewarding. You do it because you have to, or if you actually enjoy the work then it's not an issue because it's not really work anymore, but that's rarely the case."

"You're working right now. You're actually trying to attack." Morgan says, pointing at the board. We have been playing as we talk. "You're putting in effort to learn."

"Well yeah. I don't mind this because you're here." I say as I lose another piece. "You make this fun. If you weren't here and I was playing against a computer or something, this would just be annoying and any advancement would feel worthless because of that annoyance."

"You must have _really_ hated school back on Earth then."

"You have no idea." I say flatly. "That's an understatement. I did, and still do, _despise_ school. Well, homework at least. I don't mind working in class, and lectures… they're hit or miss but not too awful. It's really just homework that I hated, _still_ hate, with a passion."

"And homework is how you actually learn things because it's repetition of the concepts, right?"

"Yep." I mutter. I can feel anger coiling in my gut just thinking about it, and I push that feeling down. Morgan is not at all responsible for this. It's just that even _mentioning_ homework tends to annoy me. I really do hate it. "It's petty, but I can't change my own feelings. It's not as simple as _choosing_ not to hate something. You can't do that. Your mind doesn't work that way for something you have such a deep-seated emotion towards."

"You could choose to feel an emotion towards something you didn't feel strongly towards in the first place?" Morgan blinks.

"To an extent. If you repeatedly tell yourself something and act accordingly, your subconscious will start to believe it and your conscious mind in turn will start to believe it."

"That's crazy." Morgan says in awe.

"Yeah. The mind is super weird." I say. "What was I talking about…?"

"Homework? Deep-seated emotion?"

"Right." I say, then sigh. "I… look, I'm just whining about actually having to do work. I'm aware that's what I'm doing, and if I have to work I will, I always did my homework, but that doesn't mean I despise it any less."

"Were you always this vocal about it to your family?" Morgan asks, amused.

"Yep. They got annoyed about it pretty quickly, and it took me a while before I stopped. I was a bad kid, at least in terms of not bitching about things."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want them to think I _became_ okay with it. I hated it, and I never wanted them to forget that because, at least when I was younger, I wanted a _price_. If they were going to make me do it, I wasn't going to let them forget I was miserable. I wasn't going to let them get away scott-free with making me do it. Like…" I gesture awkwardly as I try to think of an example. "Let's say you… work as a carpenter under a master."

"Okay."

"You hate hammering in nails. And I mean hate with a burning fucking passion."

"Got it."

"Your boss makes you do it every day."

"Okay."

"You don't get paid to do it."

"Right."

"So, you can stay quiet and suffer in silence, seething at the task while he goes about his day smiling and not caring that you're suffering, or you can exact your price and never let him forget that he's making you miserable so he's forced to confront that you're suffering. You don't let him get away with a clear conscious for intentionally making you unhappy." I pause to take a breath, because I'm actually breathing hard. I got too heated there, and over something so petty. "That _used_ to be my mindset. It was hate. _Vengeance_. If they were going to slight me, I was going to slight them right back."

"And now? Or… at least before you left?" Morgan asks quietly. She's no longer smiling in amusement.

"Well, eventually I realized my parents and my school weren't just trying to spite me. Eventually meaning it took me until the middle of high school. Mid-teenage years. It's just the nature of work that working is terrible through no fault of the people who have to enforce it. Work sucks, not the people who direct it." I say. "So I don't hate work any less, but I know to direct my frustration at the task and not the people. Took me way longer than it should have to learn that lesson though. I'm still petty, but at least I'm not petty _and_ spiteful. Not towards people at least. Now I mostly just avoid unnecessary work, and try to chop work up over time to make it more bearable."

"What? You stretch it out?" Morgan looks bewildered. "Why not do it all at once to get it out of the way?"

"Would you rather drink a vial of straight acid, or eat multiple lemons over a few hours while also being able to eat cookies in between those lemons?"

"I guess I can see that logic."

"I mean, you do what works for you. I just can't stand to have that much sustained misery at once. If getting it out of the way quickly feels better for you, do it."

We both fall into silence, gazing at our forgotten game. I realize my hands are shaking, and my face contorts into a snarl. Getting worked up over something so _stupid_ , of course I would. I've always been petty, but this feels like a new low. I ranted about homework. _Homework_. I'm twenty-one and I ranted about homework like a thirteen year old.

I take a deep breath to steady myself. No need to make this worse. Calm down.

"Thanks for sharing with me." Morgan says quietly.

She's joking, right? I just ranted and she's saying thank you? "Morgan, you don't have to say that for my sake. That was childish of me."

"Well sure, but…" Morgan's hands grasp the air as she tries to convey her thoughts. "You ranted because you knew I'd listen, right?"

"Yeah." I wouldn't have done this in front of Noire or Kjelle. Well, unless they were deliberately antagonizing me about something related, in which case I might have ranted to make a point.

"And you feel better now that you got it all out, right?"

"I… yeah." I've never really gotten to throw out my thoughts about work to anyone. My parents would listen when I vent to a certain extent, but they tended to offer platitudes that I already knew and were generally patronizing. Rather than just letting me vent and get it out they felt the need to always try to make it a lesson, and a lesson I already know at that. I love my parents, don't get me wrong, but for some things they really just aren't good at _listening_.

"So I'm thanking you because basically you just showed that you trust me." Morgan says simply. "You were fully willing to be childish in front of me because you knew I wouldn't mock you for it."

That's a very optimistic way of looking at it.

"And in case you don't know, I kinda _want_ you to trust me, you know, because we're sorta in a relationship here." Morgan says with a smile, starting to regain her usual cheer. "So thanks for sharing! I still think you're cute."

"I… ah…" What do I say to that? I just showed one of my worst sides and Morgan was just like "okay, cool, I still like you".

"And besides, you said yourself that you knew it was petty. It's not like you're espousing the virtues of laziness." Morgan chirps, then pauses, "You weren't, right?"

"No." I say. "I mean, I'd much prefer not to work if I can, I'm not going to go out of my way to do five hundred extra push ups to be a black belt five star ultra tier martial artist, but if the doctor says I got to do seventy a day then I'll do it without complaining. Do what you have to, because there's a reason why you have to do it and you're going to hurt yourself way more if you don't."`

"But you only do things you have to?" Morgan asks. She doesn't frown or tilt her head judgingly, she asks it like a neutral question.

"I…" I let out a sigh. "Usually, yes. It's a matter of the pros outweighing the cons, but unless it's absolutely necessary for me to do something or I actually enjoy that thing, that's a very rare occurrence."

"Because why would you put yourself through suffering for something that almost inevitably won't feel worth the effort?"

"Exactly." I admit. "It's extremely unproductive, but… I… I _wish_ I enjoyed working. I really do. I would like nothing more than to feel satisfaction that minutes or hours or days of effort amounted to something, but usually it just ends up feeling like an empty accomplishment and the skill I improved or thing I created or job I completed is just a reminder of all that time I could have spent doing something I actually enjoyed was instead wasted on _that_." I go quiet for a few seconds, then say. "Sorry, this is still really petty. If I could make myself like work I would do it in a heartbeat."

"There has to be _something_ you'll work for."

"I said I hate work, not that I won't work." I correct her. Heck, it's not even that I slack, I was considered an above-average employee at my job because I didn't get distracted and would do tasks other people didn't like to do. I may have hated the job, but the managers were genuinely nice and I wasn't about to make their life harder if I could avoid it because it's not _their_ fault I don't like the job, and as mediocre a reason as that was to work it was more work ethic than could be attributed to half the other employees who sometimes didn't show up for shifts for stupid reasons.

Teenagers make terrible employees, especially when they have enough money that they don't technically need to work. It's sad that _I_ of all people was considered a good employee just because I'd actually show up and actually do the fucking job. That's a rant for another time though. It's disappointing to know that there are people even more petty and self-centered than me.

So, again, I hate work, but I'm not about to half-ass that work when I do it. If you're going to do work, do it to a reasonable level or you'll just bring more trouble onto yourself.

"And it's more like certain conditions make me more willing to work." I muse. "Like right now, I don't mind working on my aggressive play because you're here to make it enjoyable. Work is much less awful when you have someone you like working with you."

"Ah, so you want someone to suffer with you." Morgan smirks.

"No, I want someone to talk with and to help me and that I can help in return. It's almost _fun_ to do even menial tasks when there's someone else there alongside you." I say. "I… I could struggle over a philosophy paper on my own, talking at my computer screen as I struggle to figure out what the hell they're saying, or I could bounce off a friend who might have their own perspective so we can naturally pick apart the argument and have fun doing it. That's what I mean. Work and study don't have to be awful. As long as you have a little interest and a friend who will learn or work with you, it can be almost fun."

"Why didn't you do that in school if you hated it so much otherwise?"

"I didn't figure it out until just recently." I admit. "And I could never focus when I had friends around because I used to be _extremely_ chatty. I also didn't really have any friends after high school which is when I started to sort of mature. We all parted ways and I never made new ones because I spent as little time at university as I could."

"Oh." Morgan says. "Uh… am I your only friend?"

I feel pathetic admitting this. "Yes."

"That's terrible! I'm setting the bar way too high!" Morgan says dramatically.

A tired smile creeps over my face. I'm not tired because I'm exasperated, I'm tired because I'm emotionally drained. I just gave a stupid rant and exposed the most pathetic part of myself. I think I have good reason to feel tired, but I indulge Morgan anyways. She deserves it. Anything for you Morgan. "You got that right. How will anyone ever compare to your genius?"

"Not just my genius. My personality, my incredible face, there's just no contest!" Morgan proclaims. "I'm sorry Nathan, the rest of your future friends will be playing second-fiddle to me."

"Well considering you're my girlfriend, I'd kinda hope so." I murmur. I didn't miss her wording. She has no doubt I will have more friends. That's reassuring. "Er, Morgan."

"Yeah?"

"Can I…" I hesitantly hold my hands out for a hug. I feel it's warranted. Wait, I should have just done it. Fuck. I made this awkward, didn't I?

"Woo!" Morgan leans forward enthusiastically, totally ignoring how she messes up our chess board as she squeezes me in a hug and I do the same in return.

"Thank you." I mumble, my voice muffled by her coat. "I've told you how great you are before, right?"

"Multiple times."

"Well you're great."

"Still true."

"The best." My voice cracks.

"Mm-hmm." She rubs my back. "And you're still cute."

"Ugh…" I wipe my eyes with one hand. "This has to stop being so one-sided at some point…"

"I'm sure I'll have an existential crisis over having no memory and coming from a different future than this world at some point." Morgan hums. "Catch me when that happens."

"I will." I say with as much force as my shaky, hoarse voice can manage. "But there has to be _something_ I can do now…"

"I wouldn't mind a massage." She offers cheekily.

"Okay."

"I was joking."

"I'm not."

"You'll actually do that?"

"You just let me throw a temper tantrum with no judgement and you think I won't give a massage in return? Of course I will."

"Well when you put it _that_ way…" Morgan chuckles. "Can I complain about something too while you're doing that?"

" _Please_ do."

"Good, because getting chewed out by the captain was total bullshit." Morgan says, then pauses. "I mean, I know it wasn't actually, but-"

"You can vent." I reassure her. "It's fine. Besides, you admitted yesterday you knew you were in the wrong. We can separate logic from emotion here." That was kind of a vital part of my rant: hating something while understanding why it has to happen. I hate school, but I would never tell anyone not to go to school. Stay in school kids. It sucks ass, but it's necessary.

Morgan shrugs off her coat and lies down on her stomach on our bed while I put away the chess set. I'll spare you the exact details of her rant because it amounts to "they were being bastards and I was just sticking up for Noire and you!" and generally feeling indignant.

Just because someone deserved to get slapped and they knew they deserved to get slapped doesn't make that person any happier about getting slapped, if we want to use a metaphor. That's Morgan's situation. She knows she was in the wrong, but still feels annoyed and wants to let it out.

Thankfully Morgan's rant requires a lot less focus on my part, because I'm not sure I could handle another semi-philosophic debate at the moment. I nod and murmur at all the right points, but I mostly focus on trying to find the right amount of pressure to use with my hands. I've done this before, but that was with my old weak body where no matter how much force I used I was never really at risk of hurting the person I was touching. Not so anymore.

Also, Morgan has muscle. Logically I knew she would, because she regularly practices swordsmanship and still walks a fair amount despite me carrying her, but it's weird to actually _feel_ that muscle on her back. When I look at her I usually just see her face and her coat, so I never actually see any of that muscle like I do with Kjelle or even Noire. Morgan's clothes are really bulky and loose so it hides her body well.

It isn't much, but it feels nice to actually do something for Morgan that isn't general compliments I'd be giving anyways. Small steps are better than no steps.

###

"The crew is still avoiding me." Morgan huffs. "Even though we're not on bad terms now."

"Well I wouldn't say that." I say. "Just because you're not actively against each other anymore doesn't mean they want you around."

"But I want to learn the game they're playing." She complains, gesturing to the small board in front of a few sailors. The board is full of circular indents and each player is in possessions of a number of small marked cylinders.

"Then ask."

"I have, but they won't tell me." Morgan complains.

"Because they don't like you?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, that would be a problem." I murmur.

"Why can't they just get over it?" Morgan huffs. "I have."

"You just spent half an hour complaining about how you don't trust any of them and were just protecting me and Noire." I remind her. " _You're_ not over it either."

"Yes I am…"

"No, you're really not. Logically you might be, but emotionally you aren't, and emotion is often much more powerful than logic in informing our actions." I say.

Morgan grumbles under her breath, but she doesn't disagree.

"I suppose…" I say hesitantly. " _I_ could ask them how to play, probably when you're not around, and then teach you afterwards."

"But you hate talking to strangers."

"Yeah. But if you want to know the game I'll do it." I mumble. I can already feel my anxiety starting to manifest as a tightness in my chest, but I ignore it for now.

"I mean…" Morgan says slowly, her brow furrowed. "If you feel like you can do it, I _would_ like to know the game, but it's really not a big deal."

"Got it." So I'll do it. It's the very least I can do for Morgan. I wish it didn't give me intense anxiety to do it, but that's a price I can force myself to pay. Not at this very moment of course, because Morgan is still here and this plan literally revolves around her not being around. "When we get to Ylisse, or if we ever have enough time, maybe I can make more of the games from my world from us to play."

"What, you assume I just want to play games all the time?" Morgan huffs, feigning offence. "Because you're totally right. How many games do you know?"

"A few dozen at least. I can somewhat remember how a few dozen more work too."

"Good. Because I want to play all of them!"

Well if I'm going to be recreating dozens of games, I'm going to need to write stuff down before I forget. It's already been nearly half a year since I came to this world. I wouldn't be surprised if some memories are starting to slip.

I should get what I remember translated too. If I end up leaving this world by finding a way home, I want to leave certain things with Morgan for her to use. I want to leave my knowledge of Awakening, of course, but if she likes games I'd like to convey the rules and pieces for every game I can feasibly remember. That's a tall order, but I should be able to manage it… provided I can find enough paper and pen (or would it be quill and ink? Pens aren't too modern, there were some types of pens before, fountain pens I think, hopefully those exist) and find an economical way to translate it.

Or maybe I'll have the time to learn to write and read the logical language and translation will be unnecessary. I imagine that will only happen if I'm stuck here for a really long time though.

"We're going to need a lot of wood and a lot of time." I muse. "And some actual paint. I want to play with actually black pieces, not brown pieces with squares carved into them."

"Because that's clearly the most important thing."

"Of course it is! How can you play chess without black pieces!? That's like eating a pizza without cheese!"

"What's pizza?"

I stare at Morgan for a solid two seconds, then say. "Okay, I'm going to have to figure out how to make pizza. You _have_ to try it."

"What's in it?"

"Tomato sauce, cheese, and a certain type of bread, and if you feel like it you can add a wide variety of toppings." I say. "The real issue is going to be the bread. It needs a certain texture and I have no idea how to achieve it."

"I'm sure some cook will know how to do what's needed." Morgan reassures.

"They better. A world without pizza is a dim one indeed."

"For food is the fuel of life!" Morgan proclaims. "Or… something. I don't know how to make a skit out of this."

"Can't win every time."

"Of course I can. I'm a genius!" She pouts. "It would just take too much effort at the moment."

"Mm-hmm, sure."

"It would!"

"Uh-huh." I pat her head condescendingly. I'm sure she could think up something, but it's fun to make a joke out of it. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

###

It's difficult when to choose to approach because I know I'm on the verge of a panic attack. I want to approach when I'm calmest so there's the least chance of me freaking out, but I have no idea what my "calmest" is going to be in a situation like this.

" _And I'm just going to ask them to show me a game_." I think miserably. " _Even something as simple as this is almost beyond me._ "

It doesn't help that I can't talk myself into thinking this will go well. It's not like calling customer service where the job of the person on the other side is to help you, or where I can convince myself that whatever person I'm going to talk to doesn't have an inherent reason to dislike me, because these people _do_ already have established reasons to dislike me. There's a very real chance they'll flat out refuse.

I told myself I'd ask about the game, and I'm in position to do it right now. Morgan is exercising up on deck, and there are people here playing the game that Morgan wants to know. I just have to get this out of the way. This _will_ be terrible. There's no getting around that. I have to accept it.

" _Just go._ " I think, forcing myself to take a step. " _You've started moving and they've noticed, you can't back out now._ "

That's how I've always dealt with social situations that scare me. I convince myself I'm in a position where I can't escape without making the situation worse, so I'm effectively _forced_ to go through the interaction once I start with no way to back out. That's probably not healthy, but it's the only way I've found to deal with these sorts of situations that actually works.

"I- uh- pardon me." I say. I already feel like cringing from how meek my tone is, but I know if I raise my voice it will waver and my nervousness will be even more obvious. Being quiet allows me to mask my emotions to a certain extent.

I also probably shouldn't have led with "pardon me" because that already implies that I'm intruding and that they shouldn't listen, and it's totally different than how they talk and I'm marking myself as extremely different than them, or maybe that's just me putting too much thought into things and the crew won't make that distinction. Maybe I shouldn't apply literary analysis to a single greeting, at least not right now.

"That- you-" I stutter. My heart is already hammering in my chest. Their eyes look judgemental and annoyed to me. Just spit it out already Nathan. "The game you're playing, I want to learn it. W-Would you mind teaching me?"

They all (there's four of them) stare at me with expressions that I think are contempt, annoyance, and derisive amusement. One of them speaks, grumbling "well it ain't like we got a choice in the matter, what with the captain tellin' us to play nice. Stop bein' a bitch about it and just demand we teach ya. Don't pretend you're all nervous an' shit, we know you ain't."

"I- well- that's not-" I stammer. "It's- you're supposed to play nice, not give in to everything we ask. If you don't want to t-teach me just say no."

I suppose I could have let them falsely believe that they were obliged to do as I asked, but I don't like lying. Even if it's really not to my advantage, I don't want to lie without a good reason.

"You're _tellin'_ us to say no?"

"If you really don't want to, then say no." I affirm. "Don't go out of your way for my sake."

"Wasn't about to." The same man says. He studies me for a few seconds more, glances at everyone else at the table, then says. "Bah, grab a chair. One game couldn't hurt."

I do so quickly. One of the other men reluctantly bring out another set of cylinders when the person who was speaking nudges him.

"Norm'ly each person brings 'er own pegs to the game." The main man explains, probably seeing my confusion.

"Ah." I nod. "By the way… what's your name? I don't want to think of you as "the main guy" in my head."

That gets a snort of amusement out of him. "Name's Cyrus." He points to the left, then the right, then further right. "That's Julius, that's Linus, that's Marcus."

"Right." I say, trying to internalize those names. "I'm Nathan." Wait, they already know that. Shit.

"Yeah, we know." Thanks for rubbing it in, universe.

As it turns out, the game is literally just chinese checkers. The crew simply calls the game "Barrels", but it's also known as "Feroxi Barrels" or "Rum Route". The pegs represent barrels of rum apparently, and the triangles you're supposed to get to represent storehouses, and the open part in the middle is the sea. In this world, chinese checkers is a game about shipping rum.

The four men don't seem to mind me being there after a few minutes, likely because I'm not showing them up at their own game. They mostly talk among themselves as they play, but every once in a while a question is actually directed at me.

"So what are ya exactly?" Linus asks. "Are you the crazy girl's servant? Is that why ya asked ta play? She was askin' earlier."

Ah, so they did pick up on that. Also, apparently Morgan's threat where she mentioned I was her boyfriend didn't circulate in full, so they don't know what I am. "Not a servant. Just a companion. Though yes, I did ask to play for the purposes of telling her later."

"Are you hired help then? A merc?"

"No, a companion. A friend." I stress.

"Really?"

"Yes. Why is this so unbelievable?"

"You look rather different. I mean money wise." Linus points out. "Weird to see someone like us walkin' 'round with some mage scholar."

They think Morgan is a scholar? Okay, sure, whatever. "Well that's true enough. I'm broke and she's loaded. I'm not sure I'd say I'm "like you" though. My circumstances are… strange."

"What? You ain't poor?"

"Well I _wasn't_ poor until half a year ago." I mumble. "I was… if I say "upper middle class" does that mean anything to you?"

"Nope."

"Well I had money. Enough that I could take breaks from work and went to school and all that." I say.

"Told ya so." Julius proclaims. "I told ya he talked too smart!"

"Shut up, he coulda just been copyin' the girl." Marcus grumbles.

"You owe me two copper!"

"I'll pay ya later. Just shut up."

I have a vague feeling my group has been the subject of a lot of speculation among the crew. That makes sense of course, but it's weird to know that _I've_ been speculated about.

Cyrus speaks up. "While we're talkin' 'bout your little group, what's up with the one with the tits? She's been avoidin' us like we're diseased. She some rich lass who don't like us dirty commoners?"

"It's probably she doesn't want to be around people who will call her "the girl with the tits"." I say flatly. I feel a bit more confident now that I've been able to talk without immediate hatred directed towards me. I can use a bit of sass.

"That's a compliment!" Cyrus protests.

I mean… not really? Maybe in certain contexts but not this one. Am I really going to try and explain objectification to medieval sailors? My usual way of explaining things is "imagine this was done to you", but I doubt that's going to work so well because they _would_ probably find some mildly lewd comment about their body to be a great thing. So that's not worth the effort to explain I think. "In your mind maybe, but not hers."

"Of course." He grumbles. "Women ain't ever simple."

Whatever you say buddy. I mean, I can't talk to women either, but it's for an entirely different reason I think. Except Morgan, because Morgan doesn't mind that I'm a stuttering moron. She probably wouldn't want me thinking like that. Something something you're better than you think. Straight lies, but they're heartfelt lies from Morgan so I'll listen anyways and stop thinking like that.

"Is that the real reason, or are you jus' givin' us attitude?" Linus speaks up.

Both, but do I say that? I don't want to put words in Noire's mouth. Let's go with... "Partially."

"Partially both?"

"Yeah."

"Bah." Linus grunts. "Is she always like that?"

You're very curious about Noire, aren't you? How much am I willing to share here? "Mostly. She's shy, and doesn't like me very much."

"You piss her off?"

"Maybe? I don't think I've done anything to truly earn her ire. I think it's mostly just a lack of trust and I can't blame her for that. I'm weird" I murmur.

Talk about my group mostly dies off after that, and it's fine with me. I wasn't exactly comfortable talking about Noire. They don't tell me to leave when they prepare for the second game, but I take the chance to bow out anyways.

Morgan is eager to try the game when I explain it to her, and insists on buying it when we make landfall if possible.

###

The night before we're due to arrive, we get our first glimpse of the island on the horizon. The sun is low on the horizon to our right, casting shades of red and pink and orange across the sky. The island is visible from a distance mostly because of a single large building that sticks up above the waves.

"That's a rich club lass." The captain explains when Morgan asks about it. "Games, theater, music, the works. They be our employer as well. We bring 'cross some o' the fancy food an' spices they like to have there. I've seen the inside. They got chandeliers mode o' gold an' silver rims on their tables. The Siren's Call ain't no place for folks like me, 'cept if I'm makin' a delivery."

"Does that have anything to do with the island being the island of silver?"

"Aye." The captain nods. "This island be a place for the rich. You won't find any shortage of mansions here, nor good food and entertainment… if ya can afford it. This place be Ylissian, but ya can find all sorts o' people 'ere. Plegian spice lords, leaders of Feroxi fur empires, and businessmen o' all sorts. Even the Exalt got little power 'ere. All these folks are too rich for even an exalt to tell 'em what to do."

That certainly explains the island's name. This island is a retreat for the rich. Silver indeed. I guess that explains why Nah was found in an abandoned mansion on her paralogue. This whole island is probably littered with mansions. That makes our search a lot more difficult, as if it wasn't already difficult.

"Yer gonna have to find some other way off the island if you want to be gettin' to the Ylissian mainland." The captain warns. "An' it may not be cheap unless you can get another ride with a supply ship like us."

"We'll manage." Morgan shrugs. "At worst I can use my cute face to get us a ride."

The captain snorts. "Careful there lass. Gonna get yerself in trouble like that. Someone might take too much o' a liken' to yer "cute face", an' people 'ere are used to gettin' whatever they want an' may not take so kindly to rejection."

"Well I do know magic and swords for a reason." Morgan grins. "They can try to mess with me. Money or no money I'll come out on top."

It's amazing how casual Morgan can be about potential sexual assault. Then again, maybe compared to the threat of death when dealing with bandits she doesn't see it as as much of a big deal.

I also have a realization. "I'm going to look so out of place."

"Indeed." The captain nods. "Maybe see 'bout gettin' better clothes if you be stayin' for more than a few days."

"Uh, right." It's not like I have the money for that, so I probably won't. Besides, we just need to find Nah and leave, we hopefully won't have to deal with any of the rich folk on the island at all. I can get clothes in Ylisstol… after I make some more money.

Or, more likely, Morgan will insist on paying for clothes regardless of my protests because she's way too nice. I wonder if I can find some money before we get to Ylisstol so I can actually afford to buy clothes on my own cash so I have a legitimate reason to refuse Morgan.

As much as we joke that her money is group funds and as much gold as she might have, I don't want her wasting her money on me without a good reason.

That night, when all four members of our group are in our room, we have a discussion.

"So, we need a plan for finding Nah." Morgan says simply. "The only point of reference we have is an abandoned manor, and we don't even know where that is. I'm open to ideas."

No one else immediately speaks up, so I start. "I have a question to preface my idea."

"What?"

"What was it like to come out of the portal? I swear this is relevant."

"I don't remember." Morgan says, looking to Kjelle and Noire.

"It was scary." Noire mumbles. "So many lights, and I was weightless, and-"

"Right." I interrupt. "Uh, don't mean to be rude, but was the portal _visible_ when you came out of it? How big was it?"

"Oh!" Noire blinks. "Y-Yes. It was big and had crystals around the sides. It only stayed for a few seconds though."

"Still, we could possibly ask around to see if anyone saw the portal." I offer. "Though that might get us some weird looks."

"That probably won't work." Morgan says bluntly. "We might as well be asking for Nah specifically considering how low the chances are of us meeting someone who saw the portal."

My shoulders sink. "Oh."

"Uh, but it's a creative idea." Morgan offers reassuringly.

"How about we get our names out there?" Kjelle suggests. "Nah will know who me and Noire are. If she hears our names, she might come looking for _us_ and that makes things much easier."

"W-Well there are a lot of rich people here, right?" Noire mumbles. "So someone is bound to be a powerful mage, or have one in their employ. Maybe we can get a favor, or just _pay_ for them to use a scrying spell and find Nah."

"Now _that_ is an idea." Morgan says, pointing to Noire. "Your idea isn't terrible either Kjelle, it would just take longer."

So only my idea sucked. Great.

"If we do end up needing to search on foot though, we might want to consider splitting up." Morgan says. "I doubt on an island full of rich people there are going to be many bandits, but we should go in groups of two if we do have to search."

"You just want to go with Nathan." Kjelle says accusingly.

"Guilty." Morgan chirps without any hint of shame. "What? Are you so desperate to be rid of us, even Noire, that you want to go alone? Or did you want to come with me? I get it, I'm pretty amazing, not to mention super attractive. Is it my face, or maybe you just like that I have money?"

Kjelle's eye visibly twitches. "On second thought, I'll _revel_ in the chance to be away from you."

Morgan leans over and stage-whispers to me "I think she's too shy to admit she likes me."

"Clearly." I say in a flat, toneless voice. "She's head over heels."

"I am _not_!" Kjelle seethes.

"Madly in love."

"Shut _up_."

"Total tsundere."

"You're not even speaking Archanean now."

"Well yeah, it's English… and Japanese."

"It's fine if she doesn't want to admit it." Morgan says with a wide grin. "I'm willing to wait. They say the chase is the most fun part."

Kjelle sighs in defeat. "Fuck both of you."

"Ooh, three-way?"

Kjelle gives Morgan a withering glare, and Morgan smiles coyly and giggles behind her hand in an obvious imitation of a shy maiden.

Which, to be clear, she is _not_. She's about as far from that as possible.

"Anyways…" Kjelle says through gritted teeth. "Which plan are we going with?"

"I think Noire's is best." Morgan says, dropping her act. "We'll split to search if that fails, and also get the word out that we're looking for Nah. We can use all our plans."

Except mine, because mine was stupid.

"Except yours." Morgan acknowledges, even though I didn't say anything. Maybe it showed on my face. She leans into me with a smile. "But that's only because you're making it waaaay too complicated. That was a solid thing to point out."

If you say so Morgan. I'd figure there's a fifty-fifty chance she's saying that out of pity.

"It might be nice to split the group, don't you think?" Morgan whispers as she leans in close. Once again she has a wide grin on her face. "We haven't exactly been alone since we found Noire, have we?"

"Oh- uh-" I squeak. I have no idea how lewdly she meant that implication, but my heart clenches and my hands sweat despite that. "Y-Yeah."

Her grin doesn't fade. "You're very red."

"And who's fault is that?" I manage to say without stammering.

"Me I hope." Morgan chirps.

"Get a fucking room." Kjelle says.

"This _is_ our room."

"Get another. For Naga's sake…" Kjelle moans while rubbing her forehead. "I really hope we split up now. Naga…"

Noire doesn't comment, but she's also blushing a bit. Morgan is the only person in the room who isn't flustered to some degree, and she looks supremely smug about it.

###

The docks still smell like fish, rich or not. The Siren's Call is even more massive up close, and by "up close" I mean we're probably an hour's walk from it and it still dominates the skyline. It's fucking _huge_. That building is the size of… I don't have a good comparison. It's not the tallest or widest building I've ever seen, but it's still massive. I can't imagine how much money must have gone into it, especially considering this is basically medieval times so the construction was likely more difficult than in ours.

Let's see… it's at least a dozen stories tall, with multi-colored stain-glass windows all around. Each floor isn't small either if the windows are any indication. The building is easily as large as a city block as well. It's not a skyscraper in height, nor does it take up as much area as the Vatican, but as a combination of both it's still monstrous in overall size.

I guess if you stick enough rich people in the same place they'll make something amazing. Or maybe it was funded by one person that was absolutely swimming in cash.

"It's so big." Noire mumbles, apparently having the same thought as me. "We're not even close and it's still so big."

"I wonder what it's like on the inside." Morgan muses. "I wanna see…"

"If you want to waste your money on it, go right ahead." Kjelle huffs.

"Hey, you need my money." Morgan reminds. "My money is group funds, remember?"

Kjelle grumbles under her breath, but Morgan is right after all. Kjelle has maybe ten silver to her name. That's not nothing, but it will only last her so long and might not get her off the island if all the boats are expensive.

Well, okay, we only paid a few silver for our trip. So if Kjelle could find a supply ship willing to transport her she might be able to get off the island. Still, it would be inconvenient.

"So what's our first goal? We need to find a skilled mage, right?" I ask.

"Well first we need lodgings." Morgan reminds me.

Oh, right, duh. Jumping the gun a bit there.

"So let's see if we can find some place that isn't hideously expensive." She says. "Then we should ask around, casually, about skilled known mages. We want to know our options first. We're in the land of the rich. It would be foolish to think there isn't corruption and manipulation and power plays everywhere. It would be best if we can find someone known for charity, or at least with a good reputation for his character rather than just his skills."

I hadn't even considered that. This is why Morgan is the tactician and not me, though I suppose this is more strategy than tactics at the moment.

Where do you draw the line between strategy and tactics anyways? Is it a sliding scale or is there a hard line? Maybe this is tactics because we're talking specifics? Ah whatever. I imagine there's some crossover in the skills needed for tactics and strategy, so as much as Morgan is a tactician that probably also makes her a decent strategist.

She's also just really smart, so there's that.

Also… "Morgan."

"Yeah?"

"Do we need a cover story?" I ask. "How much do we have to avoid attention?"

"I- huh. I hadn't considered that." Morgan muses. "I don't imagine we're going to have any inherent trouble so we don't need one for daily use, but if we're going to ask aid of a mage we might need to make something up then. Good point."

"Three time-travelling girls and some random guy from beyond the outrealms isn't going to sound very believable, and it might draw attention we'd rather not have if someone does put stock in it." Kjelle says quietly. "How many rich men would like to research time travel if they had the chance, or have knowledge of the future?"

"Point." Morgan mutters. "So what are we then?"

So far we've just refrained from explaining our circumstances or given some generic explanation, but if anyone shrewd took a good look at us they'd find cracks in our story. We don't want that now.

"I think the main problem is going to be you Nathan." Morgan says, turning to me. "I mean, even aside from your clothes, you look Valmeses while the rest of us are obviously either Ylissian or Plegian, but you don't speak in a Valmese accent, and you're not leading."

Of course I'd be the problem. Of course.

"And he's a wimp." Kjelle points out. "Even if he doesn't look like it."

Screw you too. I mean, you're totally right, but still screw you.

"How are we going to explain all that?" Morgan muses. "Hmm…"

"I could just not go with you when you talk to the mage." I offer. "So you don't have to explain it."

"But you're the one who knows about Nah's circumstances." Morgan says. "We might need you there."

"I really, really doubt that. I know Nah's very general circumstances. It's not like I'm going to be able to pick out landmarks or anything. Aside from the fact that she's on this island and will probably eventually end up in a Risen infested manor, that's all I know."

"Well yeah, that's more than the rest of us." Morgan insists.

"That doesn't make me any more useful in finding Nah from now on." I retort. "Morgan, if I'll make things more difficult, just leave me behind. I appreciate that you're trying to include me, but be practical. It won't even be for that long when it happens."

Morgan does _not_ look happy about that. She crosses her arms indignantly. "We haven't even _tried_ to think of a cover story yet. I'm not counting you out unless we have to. There's no good reason you shouldn't be coming with us."

"Except that he can't string together two sentences when talking to anyone that isn't you?" Kjelle mutters. Morgan clearly hears her, but chooses to ignore it.

"So." Morgan claps. "Who are we? We can probably keep our names. No need to get too fancy."

Too late for that, I'm already using a different name. I… I should probably mention that at some point, especially to Morgan.

"Our individual backstories don't have to be too fancy either." Morgan adds. "Just, how did a group like us get together and how did we lose Nah? Also, what's up with Nathan because he's the only guy?"

"Well, we could say we're a mercenary group." Kjelle suggests. "That would explain why we all dress so differently. We all come from different places, but come together with the goal of money. Even Nathan wouldn't be _too_ out of place."

"A-And Nah is a mage." Noire adds. "Sh-She came here looking for a certain spell that… that…"

"Looking for information on outrealms." Morgan says. "Might as well use a grain of truth, right? Makes it easier to remember. Plus, if anyone did happen to see her portal, it would explain why she would be around it without implying she came out of it."

"So we're a mercenary group from all around, Nah came here looking for information about outrealms because she heard about a portal, and we came to get her because…?" Kjelle asks.

"She's a month late." I offer. "And she's always had a bad sense of direction, so we came to the logical conclusion that she got lost and came to fetch her. We may be in this line of work for money, but companions always come first."

"Sap." Kjelle snorts. "What sort of mercenary are you?"

"We don't have to say that. It can be implied." I mumble. "Why else would we be coming to get Nah?"

"Fine, but _don't_ say that. Let me talk, or literally anyone else." Kjelle says. "You couldn't pass as a mercenary if you tried."

"I know." But thanks for rubbing it in anyways.

"So I think that works" Morgan chirps. "We can iron out the details later, so let's find a place to stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want the TLDR of the rant: knowing something logically doesn't mean you can magically change your feelings about it, no matter how much you wish that was true. Nathan really hates certain types of work, and values companionship very highly in part because it makes certain types of work he hates so much more bearable. Also Morgan is literally his only friend, both in Awakening's world and Earth.
> 
> He's also not totally accurate about himself in that rant. He's intentionally making himself sound worse, and you can find some outright contradictions between the rant and his actions already.
> 
> I'm starting to think I should add "and Morgan is great" to the end of all my author's notes, because that fact is always relevant somehow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, the idea for the island was entirely based on Nah's paralogue being in a manor. That's how I decided it would be an island for the rich. I also had no idea her paralogue took place on an island until maybe a month ago.
> 
> Not much happens in this chapter in terms of plot. I mean, like, literally nothing. There's quite a bit of world building though. This chapter is almost entirely Nathan and Morgan.

"Finally, it is good to be in a place befitting my _massive brain_ and even more massive wallet." Morgan sniffs pretentiously. "How beneath me it was to be travelling in a world of filthy plebeians and to need to touch dirt with my own boots! The wonders of cobbled roads are truly innumerable."

"Indeed they are, Mistress. Would you like your tea with enormously expensive imported sugar that tastes exactly the same as regular sugar, or milk from your private farms that you claim is specially made but is actually just the same as all other milk?" I ask in a simpering, servile voice.

"I do think I'll take the sugar this time." Morgan says. "How will I remind myself of how incredibly rich I am if I do consume something hideously expensive at least once per meal? Why, I might vaguely resemble a commoner! Can you imagine the trauma that would cause my fragile ego?"

"Of course Mistress." I say. "I have also prepared numerous dress options for your outing today. How ostentatious are you feeling? We have an elegant Chon'sinese blue silk gown personally made for you by your personal Chon'sinese tailor who you can't even talk to without a translator, a dress of your own making with real platinum coins as ornamentation for extra pretension, or traditional Feroxi garb that is so heavily altered with gold and silver that it is not even recognizable as such?"

"I think I'll take my platinum gown." Morgan proclaims. "Do prepare the carriage for my departure dear boy. And remember to round up some plebeians to pull it for me. Horses are so _hideously_ expensive."

"Of course Mistress."

"Are you two quite done?" Kjelle asks dryly.

"Feeling impatient dear? A guard must have the utmost patience! What else do I pay you for?" Morgan tuts. "Do not make me dock your pay. I am being _quite_ generous with your five copper daily pay already."

Kjelle's eye twitches. Noire silently sips her tea, choosing not to comment. I'm the only person not having tea. I have water.

The plan today is to find information on a mage who might be willing to scry for us and who we have some cause to believe is trustworthy.

I'm fairly sure I'm not going to be useful in that endeavor, if only because of my anxiety when dealing with strangers, and this job is literally all about going up to strangers to ask for information.

At least I can be assured that Morgan will do most of the talking. I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to be able to do to help, but I suppose I don't really have to.

With our goofiness mostly out of our system and our breakfast done, we exit the inn and-

"We should probably split up. We don't all need to talk to the same person at the same time." Morgan says. "So at the very least we can split up with me and Nathan and you two, though if you two are comfortable going alone we get more info, but it's not a big deal."

"That's fine with me." Kjelle says. "Noire?"

"I-I'd rather stay with you than go alone." Noire murmurs.

"That's fine. We're in no real rush anyways." Morgan says. "Oh, and here."

She takes some gold out of her pouch, six, and hands three to each of them. Kjelle takes her money with a raised eyebrow.

"We're finally in a place that looks fun, so… take some money to have fun!" Morgan chirps. "Get lunch at a nice place, watch a play, I dunno. We've been on the move or stuck in a tavern for months on end, so let's not waste the chance, right?"

"There are better uses for this money…" Kjelle grumbles.

"Yeah, but I wanna enjoy myself." Morgan says. "If you don't want to use it, don't, but this is my money and I can choose how I use it."

"We're supposed to be searching for information, not having a day on the town." Kjelle argues.

"We can do both. We're not in a rush Kjelle." Morgan reminds her. "Nah isn't in imminent danger or anything. If you don't want to, you don't have to, but just because we're on a mission doesn't mean we can never have fun."

"You have fun all the time with your stupid roleplay." Kjelle complains under her breath. "But fine. I'll take your money if you're so insistent."

"You're _welcome_." Morgan says smugly. "You're lucky I'm such a generous, gracious, _humble_ girl who doesn't mind giving money to someone so ungrateful."

"If you expect me to say thank you _now_ , I won't." Kjelle sneers.

"Kjelle…" Noire says reproachfully. Her eyebrows are slightly furrowed and she has a frown on her face. "Morgan is being nice."

"I- fine." Kjelle says. " _Thank you_. There, happy?"

Noire still looks disappointed in her, and Morgan still looks supremely smug.

"Let's meet back here at dusk." Morgan says cheerfully as she pulls me away. "You can have dinner out if you want! Don't feel shy about spending the money!"

###

"They had all sorts of miniatures!" Morgan says eagerly. "I want to see if they have the game Father played! I also saw a shop with tomes and I want to get a new one, and I heard some of the sailors talking about the really nice restaurants here and how some of them aren't too unreasonably priced and I really want some good food!"

"We _are_ going to actually accomplish our mission at some point, right?" I ask, amused. "This wasn't just an excuse to go on a shopping trip?"

"Well..." Morgan says with a smirk.

"Morgan."

"Of course it wasn't. It's _also_ an excuse to be with you~!" Morgan smiles. "It's been awhile since we've been alone during the day, and Kjelle is kind of a killjoy."

I'm not sure I've ever had someone so eager to be around me, much less to have alone time. I don't know what I did to make you think so highly of me Morgan, but I'm glad I did it. "Well I'm not about to complain about having your genius mind all to myself."

Morgan makes an exaggerated gasp. "Is all you care about my mind? What about my winning personality? What about my body?!"

"Your personality is a convenient bonus." I joke. "And your body… no comment."

"Rude!" Morgan pouts. "I bet other men would love my _mature_ and not at all childish or cute face!"

A smile stretches the corners of my face. "Have you been watering yourself every morning and removing bugs?"

"Oh come on!" Morgan pouts. "I am not that small!"

"Well…"

"Fine, I won't be small forever!"

I usually would carry on the joke here, but now that I consider it I have to bring this point up eventually. "Morgan, you do know that-"

"Yeah, I know, I might not get a growth spurt." She huffs. "A girl can dream though, can't she? Besides, I feel like I should have one."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a subconscious thing." Morgan says, gesturing to her stomach and head. "I just _feel_ in my gut that I haven't had a growth spurt. I feel like I'm still waiting for it. I know my age means I shouldn't have one, but…"

"Well it's not impossible." I say slowly. "There are a few conditions that could explain it. There are some deformities like hypopituitarism where your brain might not produce certain growth hormones, or it might be something more benign like constitutional growth delay, but there's also the chance that you're just _small_. Actually… do you know how tall your father was? A good indicator of a child's final height is actually their parents' height."

"Father is smaller than you, but a head and a bit over me." Morgan says. "He's average from what I remember."

"I suppose then it would depend on your mother then." I muse. But the only really small women in the game are Nowi and Nah and Morgan herself. No one else is quite that short. Or, I don't _think_ there's anyone that short. It's not like there are official heights. Maybe Olivia is actually really short. "But yeah, you probably should be taller. Maybe we can ask Miriel to look into it if science or magic has advanced far enough to detect genetic defects."

"So the only possibility is defects though?" Morgan asks worriedly. "Or else I'm just done growing?"

"Constitutional growth delay isn't really a defect, and isn't usually permanent. It might just be that." I reassure. "If you feel fine, don't worry. Something like hypopituitarism would probably have other side effects. If you feel fine, then there's nothing to worry about."

"Right." Morgan sighs. "I just… I _want_ to grow."

"What's so wrong with being small and cute?"

"Nothing!" Morgan says in frustration. "It's not even bad or anything, but I hate feeling like I'm missing out on something I should be getting. I wouldn't mind being short and cute if it felt natural, but it _doesn't_. I feel like I'm in the middle of something."

That's a very specific feeling. I'm trying to remember all the mental symptoms of puberty now. Maybe I can try and determine if she's still in the middle of it. Or maybe she already knows. "Do you know if you _started_ puberty at least?"

"Yeah." Morgan nods. "I have the usual female issues, so to speak."

Okay, so that strikes off the possibility that she just didn't start puberty at all. "Well I have no idea then. Realistically you should have hit your growth spurt by now. It's probably not an issue, but if you're really worried about it you should talk to Miriel and probably a healer when we get to Ylisstol."

"Who's Miriel again?"

"Smart lady. Mage, scientist."

"Right, right…" Morgan nods. "We got off track."

"Yeah, sorry."

"No, I'm glad you brought it up. Better than worrying about it in the back of my mind." Morgan says. "So, anyways, miniatures!"

"Right."

###

Before we even get to the store, something completely different catches my attention. I catch a flash of a familiar hairstyle and face in the crowd. Morgan has been leading me until then, but when I catch a glimpse of those I grab Morgan by the arm and tug her into the market.

"I saw something." I say quickly to explain. "Some _one_."

"Who?"

"An Anna."

Morgan perks up. "Anna? One of my possible mothers?"

"Uh, probably not. There are dozens, maybe hundreds of Annas. They all look alike and have the same name." I explain. I'm only half paying attention to her. I need to find Anna again. "But they know a lot and an Anna operates the outrealm gate in the game, so there's a chance I can get some useful info out of her."

"Right." Morgan's brow furrows. "What does she look like?"

"Red hair, ponytail, probably wears some red too." I recount quickly.

It doesn't actually take too long to find Anna, because despite how busy the market is Anna is very good at making herself heard and seen. She actually doesn't have her stall set up yet, and is in the process of unfolding a stand from the back of her wagon.

For once, my nervousness is forgotten in my eagerness to talk. "Anna!"

The merchant turns her head with a wide and very fake smile on her face. She's not dressed like the Shepherds' Anna, and instead has an outfit that's white and crimson rather than red and yellow. Still, she's still very obviously an Anna. "Hello! How are you hansome? And you too, cutie! Just give me a minute if you would, I just need to set up my stall before I can make a sale~!"

"Ah, we're not here to buy merchandise." I say quickly. "Just information. I know you Annas are smart."

"Oh?" That seems to catch her attention. She stops unfolding her stand, strands up straight, and turns to me with obvious curiosity. "Is that so?"

"Yes." I nod. "Uh, is that wrong…?"

"No, not at all." Anna says. "It's just unusual to hear. Mostly when people think of us Anna's they tend to think of our salesmanship. People don't usually assume we're _smart_ as a rule."

"Well I know better." I say. From my game knowledge, I know that all Annas are familiar with information from a big family collection of knowledge that all Annas are required to know, though I obviously can't say that I know that specific piece of information. "I'll get right to the point. Does the outrealm gate exist in this world, and if so, how far can it send someone?"

Anna's eyebrows rise quickly, and she leans forward. "Well now, _that's_ an interesting question. What interest do you have in outrealms, stranger?"

"I want to get home." I say honestly. "But to do that I'm going to need interdimensional travel, and the outrealm gate is the only way I know of doing that."

Not true actually. Anankos pulled Owain, Severa, and Inigo to the world of Fates, so he can cause interdimensional travel, but that's not something I can even start to try and use.

"You're an outrealmer, hmm?" Anna hums. Her eyes study me carefully.

"Maybe?"

"What do you mean, _maybe_?" Anna asks.

"I mean maybe." I shrug. "I don't know how I got here, but I come from a place without magic, so coming through an outrealm portal seems unlikely."

"Indeed." Anna frowns. "I'm not sure the outrealm portal would be able to get you back home anyways if that's the case. Breaking into a magic-less world would require an astounding amount of power."

"So the outrealm portal _does_ exist."

"Yes, it does." Anna whispers. "Keep that to yourself though. We try not to spread the fact that interdimensional travel exists for what I hope should be obvious reasons."

"Too dangerous." I whisper in return. "Sorry."

"Is that all you wanted to know?" Anna asks.

"Well… I have a few more mundane questions too." I say.

"Fire away. Anything else sensitive will cost you though." Anna warns. "The outrealm gate was a freebie because of your circumstance, if you're going to pry into anything else I'm charging."

"I just need general news of the world." I reassure her. "Is Ylisse at war right now?"

"Oh _that?_ Geeze, you could ask anyone that." Anna huffs.

Oh, right. I guess we're not in farming villages now, and the rich would obviously get information pretty quickly.

"But yeah, Ylisse is at war. They've got Plegia on the ropes from what my sister tells me." Anna says.

So the Ylisse-Plegia war is the one happening. We haven't even hit the timeskip yet. Interesting, and also possibly very inconvenient. If the timeskip hasn't happened yet and Valm hasn't invaded, that means Lucina probably hasn't revealed herself to the Shepherds yet, which means we're going to have a problem trying to explain the ruined future situation.

"Is Emmeryn alive?"

Anna's eyes narrow. "That's a very specific question. What makes you ask that?"

"Well Emmeryn is the ruling exalt from what I'm aware." I say. "If war started, then it makes sense she would be in danger. I just want to know the situation in Ylisse overall seeing as my group will be heading to Ylisstol."

"Mm-hmm." Anna hums, unconvinced. "Did you just expect me to ignore the fact that you for some reason thought that Ylisse would be at war? You _know_ something."

Ah, uh, right. She doesn't know about my future knowledge. I really should have been more careful. "Well that's not wrong…" I say reluctantly.

Anna sighs. "Emmeryn is alive."

I wonder if that means she got taken but survived unlike the games, or if she hasn't gotten taken yet, but if that were the case then Plegia wouldn't be on the ropes yet. So I think, somehow, Emmeryn actually _survives_ in this world, and I have no idea what that's going to do for the accuracy of my future knowledge.

"Okay, spill, come on, I've answered your questions." Anna huffs. "I won't charge you, so do a girl a good turn here huh?"

"Uh, well…" I mumble, suddenly feeling acutely nervous. I glance to Morgan (who has been quiet this entire time) for reassurance, and she calmly squeezes my arm. She doesn't comment one way or another, leaving it up to me how I want to handle this. "My world has stories of this world and worlds like it."

"Oho!" Anna leans way forward. "You have to tell me! Spill! _I'll_ pay _you_ for that info!"

"I don't have much that would be useful to you." I say honestly. "I can tell you Ylisse will eventually go to war with Valm, _probably_ about two years after this war ends. After that war ends Grima will rise, then be killed, and a large portion of Plegia's population will be dead."

Anna stares for a long ten seconds, then murmurs. "Okay then, that _is_ something, and it is useful indeed." She digs into her coin pouch and pulls out a full gold coin and offers it to me. "I'm not usually this generous, so for future reference settle the price _before_ you give them the goods."

"It isn't a sale." I say, pushing the coin back. "We traded. You told me about the outrealm gate, I told you about the future."

"If you say so." Anna pockets the coin. "Well, if you have any other tidbits of information you remember while you're around, I'll still be more than happy to buy some knowledge."

"I'll keep that in mind." I say. "Oh, and one last thing…"

"Hmm?"

"Have you seen someone called Nah? She's short, looks like a child and dresses like a doll, and has pointed ears."

Anna shakes her head. "Can't say I have. I'll point her this way if I do though."

"Thanks." I nod. "Well, uh… best of luck with your sales."

"Thank you." She smiles, looking a bit more genuine this time. "Come back when I'm set up if you're interested in buying something! I promise only the best of prices!"

"Sure." I nod. "Bye."

Me and Morgan walk away from her stall and out of the market, and Morgan takes the lead again.

"So." She says once we're out of the crowd. "What does that tell you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What did you learn? I mean, what does the war between Ylisse and Plegia mean for us?"

"Oh." I take a second to compose my thoughts. "So, it means we might have some trouble convincing your father about the whole future child thing, as in the game Lucina doesn't reveal her future child status until the beginning of the Valmese war. Granted, Emmeryn is still alive in this world which doesn't happen in the game, so with that deviation in mind I really can't predict too accurately."

"Ooh, that's a problem." Morgan frowns. "What do we do if she hasn't revealed herself then?"

"Try and find her?" I suggest weakly. "Not that I know where she'd be. We could also just go find the other future kids without talking to all your parents. Alternatively, I could try to leverage the fact that I know things about them to convince them that you're future children through my future knowledge."

"We might have to rely on that." Morgan muses. "Let's hope Lucina revealed herself early then."

"Yeah, let's." I hope I'll be able to convince the Shepherds that they have future kids. It won't be as easy as convincing the future kids that I had knowledge of the world though, because unlike them I have to battle disbelief whereas the future kids are already used to some pretty weird stuff.

###

Have you ever been to a Games Workshop? This store is kinda like that, except none of the miniatures are in boxes. They're in glass display cases. I can see normal soldiers, pegasus knights, wyvern riders, dragons, and even some things that I'm pretty sure don't exist here like orcs, elves, and a number of angelic and demonic looking figures.

I don't see any Skaven though, so it's not a straight Warhammer rip off. I never really played any miniature games because they were too expensive and I was (and still am) always pretty bad at strategy anyways, but I always did have an interest in them. They were cool, but I was always too frugal (despite my decently large bank of expendable cash) and too self-conscious about how bad I was to bother getting into anything of the sort.

All the miniatures are just a bit larger than I'd expect back home. I wonder if it's because they're wood, and you can't get as detailed with wood because of… uh… the grain…? I only know basic woodworking, okay!?

"Well, what do we have here?" A stilted voice calls through the store as me and Morgan gaze about. A tall, almost emaciated old man with skin pulled tight to bones, thin but brilliantly white hair pulled into a ponytail, glasses, and a polished wooden cane with golden swirls trailing down it, emerges from behind a case with a stiff gait. Everything about him is stiff in fact. His walk, the way his head snaps between us suddenly, and even the way he talks. He spaces out every syllable evenly, leaving about a half second between them. It's a very odd way of speaking. "You are new. Are you from off the island?"

"Yep!" Morgan chirps. "I remember my Father liked things like this, but I can't remember exactly what game it was. When I saw the store I had to come in and look though!"

"Your father plays, you say? Well, perhaps I can help narrow it down." The man says, and suddenly extends a hand. "I am Keene, and you?"

"I'm Morgan!" Morgan chirps. She enthusiastically shakes his hand. "I'm a tactician! A great one!"

"Indeed? Perhaps you could play well, then." Keene smiles. "And you." He extends a hand to me. "You are?"

"Nathan." I say, shaking his hand more gently. I do have to note that his hand doesn't shake though, and his grip is rather firm. "Not a tactician, just her companion."

"Just as well." Keene nods. "Now, do tell, Morgan-" (he pronounces it "more-gahn" rather than "more-gin" despite the fact that Morgan said her name not ten seconds ago) "-what do you remember?"

"Not too much." Morgan admits reluctantly. "My memory is spotty. I remember horsemen, armor knights, trebuchets… and some lady on a multi-eyed dragon."

"Did those figures, by chance, happen to be painted blue and gold and green?"

Morgan nods. "Yeah, they were!"

"Those are likely the Knights of the Veil." Keene says, and gestures for us to follow. He leads us to the back of the store and takes a moment to open a few cabinets, apparently looking for something. He finds it within a minute, and shows us… a ten-eyed dragon with an armored lady on it. He had exactly what Morgan was talking about. "Does this seem right?"

"That's exactly it!" Morgan all but shouts. Her grin threatens to split her face. "It's just like I remember it! That's crazy!"

"I have at _least_ one of everything." Keene says with obvious pride in his voice. "And I know it all. I have spent much of my life in this hobby. It would be a failure on my part if I could not identify such a specific description."

Yeah, but that's still crazy. It took him maybe ten seconds to figure out exactly what character and what group Morgan was talking about, even with her overall vague description.

"This is part of the most popular system in recent times." Kenne says, handing the miniature to Morgan to study. I'm surprised he's okay with her handling the merchandise without any guarantee she'll buy. "A system called "Multirealm", which, as the name would imply, is set in a series of connected but distinct worlds, or realms. A simple premise, but infinitely flexible for the creation of new factions."

"Cool…" Morgan murmurs. I'm not sure if she's talking about the system or the miniature. Maybe both, but probably the miniature if I had to bet.

"Is it a dice game?" I ask. "I'm from elsewhere and we have miniature games that use dice to determine combat and such."

"It is the same here." Keene says. He leans forward on his cane. His voice carries clear enthusiasm. "What games are you familiar with?"

Well it's not like he's going to be able to get his hands on any of the ones I know, and I feel kinda bad about it because he seems really interested. "Does the name Warhammer ring any bells?"

"It does not." Keene says. "Do tell!"

"Well, here's what I remember of it…"

I proceed to spend the better part of an hour trying to recount all I know about Warhammer. I never played, but I have looked into it several times, so even I'm surprised by how much I can recall about it.

It's only when I'm done (and have broken the news that he won't be able to get his hands on the game because I claim it's "discontinued", much to Keene's dismay) that I remember why we came here and that I just spent an hour completely shutting Morgan out of the conversation. Also, no one else actually came into the store during this time. I guess with how specialized this shop is, and considering there's no need to come here frequently, that Keene doesn't get much daily traffic.

Morgan, thankfully, doesn't look too put-out. By that I mean she's been paying just as much attention as Keene has, despite having even less context to understand what the heck I'm saying.

So not put-out at all, and I'm worrying for nothing. I suppose that's better than being worried for good reason though.

However, Morgan _does_ want to shop for a tome before we get to lunch time, so she hands back the miniature she's been holding (as Multirealm and most miniature board games are very much games for the rich in this world and having only one unit would be almost useless anyhow) and we bid Keene farwell. Judging by his wide smile, I think we made his day despite not buying anything.

When I arrived in this world I never expected to run across a nice old man who was passionate about miniature tabletop war games, nor was I expecting those types of games to exist at all, but I suppose this world does have some _pleasant_ surprises and isn't always archaic and disappointing.

###

"Why do you even want another tome anyhow?" I question. "Is elfire not enough for you? Want more bang for your buck?"

"Nah, I just don't want to accidentally burn a forest down." Morgan says, reminding me of our close brush with that when we were hunting back in Ferox. "I could use some variety anyways. Different tomes for different situations or different opponents."

"Like wind for fliers?"

"Yeah." She nods. "Is that something you learned from the game?"

"Yep. Not that great against pegasus knights because they have great magic resist anyhow, but lethal to wyvern riders."

"That's fairly accurate." Morgan nods. "Pegasi have incredible natural magic resistance, so what you're trying to do when attacking a pegasus knight with wind magic is either aiming for the rider or trying to cause enough disturbance in the air to make it fall out of the sky."

"I see." I say. "So, are you aiming to get a wind tome, or maybe a thunder tome?"

"I was hoping for elthunder and wind." Morgan says. "I'm confident I can pull off elthunder or learn it quick because Father taught me thunder magic even if I can't remember, but wind will be new territory."

"Not interested in dark magic?"

"I _am_ , but I think I want some proper instruction before I try that." Morgan says. "Dark magic is different, I think."

We're passing a lot of well-to-do shops with all sorts of things on show in the windows. I can see shops for things like candles, dolls, dresses (so many dresses, half the stores are for dresses, what the hell) weapons and armor, books (not tomes, just books), and-

"Morgan!" I say suddenly, pointing at a store. "Look!"

"What is- oh man!" Morgan grins. "That's _perfect_!"

A store selling _games_. Board games! I'm so happy that something like this exists in this world, even if I'm pretty sure it only exists because of all the rich people around. I really hope there's something like it in Ylisstol. "We can't _not_ go in there… right?"

"Definitely." Morgan says. " _After_ I get my tomes."

"Oh, right."

"You're very easily distracted today." Morgan smirks. She loops her arm through mine. "I can't have you leaving and getting lost, what would I tell the others?"

"I won't leave. I'm not that flighty." I mumble. I would totally get lost if I left Morgan's side though. My sense of direction is terrible. I couldn't find my way back to the inn right now if I tried. "And the others wouldn't care."

"Nathan…"

"You know it's true."

"I don't think so."

"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Kjelle wouldn't prefer if I was gone?"

"Uh…" Morgan stalls, probably realizing that I'm totally right. "Yeah, okay, maybe, but she'd still help find you if you were lost. She's a knight, she helps people in trouble and all that. She wants you gone, not possibly _dead_ or injured or in trouble."

Yeah, that's fair. Kjelle is an ass, but not _that_ much of an ass.

"And Noire would care too. Again, you're _weird_ to them, not an enemy. Besides, you had a direct hand in rescuing Noire. I know you don't talk to her at all now, but her opinion of you isn't _that_ low."

"I'll take your word for it." I say.

"Good." Morgan tilts her head up and gives a haughty sniff. "Now come, servant. I wish to procure new weaponry for mineself."

"Of course my lady." I respond, dropping my voice to something sniveling. "I scouted all the best shops yesterday…"

In the end we find a suitably generic tome shop, and Morgan buys elthunder and wind for five gold total. Elthunder was four, wind was one. Tomes are expensive. Everything else she's bought in my memory has only cost copper or silver. Even if they're "cheap" because they're made to be expendable, that doesn't mean they're still not pricey, just less so than they would be otherwise.

###

Apparently, as we've been walking around the town Morgan has been taking note of any restaurants we pass by. It hadn't even occurred to me to do that. I really have to start paying more attention to stuff like that. I just assumed that since Morgan mentioned restaurants that she would handle it, and she has, but this was something I could have helped with. I know Morgan is probably always going to be more alert and active and assertive than me, but in regards to our relationship I should really start keeping track of things I can do for her, or even just with her. Better I start putting in effort now than wait for it to become a problem. I don't need to be as forward as Morgan, I just need to put in _some_ effort rather than waiting to be led around all the time.

"Oh, hey, this one looks nice!" Morgan says, pulling me along behind her.

I mean, I'm still going to be dragged around, but I hopefully won't be a metaphorical dead weight in the relationship.

The place Morgan has found is… really normal. Normal by the standards of _Earth_ though. The walls are painted a nice dark green, there are simple but elegant lamps above every table, the tables are darkwood and have nice blue tablecloths, and all the utensils are ready on any empty table including a folded napkin. It really does feel like a generic restaurant from Earth with the faux-riche look of a restaurant that wants to be fancy but doesn't have the cash to actually afford expensive decorations.

Morgan nudges me. We've been standing in the entryway for a solid ten seconds as I look around. "Is it really that good? Or bad?"

"It looks like Earth." I say quietly. "The napkins, the ornaments, the way the dishes and utensils are set out… it's just like Earth."

"Huh." Morgan turns her eyes to the elements I mentioned. "So on Earth, this is what a restaurant would have looked like?"

"Certain ones." I say. "Can't think of any specific ones off the top of my head, but I've certainly been to some like this before."

"Cool." Morgan says. "So this place is good?"

I mean, I don't know. Maybe the food is terrible, maybe it's super pricey, but I'm interested in eating here for the atmosphere, just so I can feel like I'm back home again. "Yeah, this place looks great."

Also, judging by the other patrons in the restaurant, I'm going to be massively out of place. I've still got my furs on, and everyone else here is at least decently dressed with overcoats or vests or fancy shirts with cravats. Morgan already looks a bit off because her coat is something out of a cult (literally) but it's fancy enough as to not draw _too_ much attention. Me though? I don't even look _close_ to the same class as everyone else.

"Hey, hi!" Morgan chirps when a server finally approaches. "We're looking to eat here! Quick question though, what're the prices like? We're not super cheap, but we ain't looking for something real rich."

"How… honest of you." The server says. I think he was going to say "blunt" then remembered he's supposed to be polite. "Half a gold is standard for one meal."

"That works!" Morgan says.

One gold? Tavern food is maybe half a silver for our entire group, and this is a whole gold for two people. Yikes. That's one hell of a price gouge. One meal here would take a farmer literally _years_ to afford based on what I know about their income.

"Will your servant be standing by? Or is he eating with you?" The server asks, waving vaguely in my direction.

There we go. I knew that would happen at some point. Although you'd think with the way Morgan has her arm looped through mine that would have given him _some_ indication that I'm not a servant. Am I supposed to speak up here? Maybe I should speak up.

"He's not a servant." Morgan says before I've finished my internal debate. She has her head held high and is looking down her nose at the server. That's an unnecessary amount of indignation in my opinion. I _do_ look out of place. This was inevitably going to happen. "And yes, my _companion_ will be eating with me."

The server raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment on the correction. He silently shows us to a table.

I'm mostly preoccupied staring at our surroundings and basking in the Earth-like surroundings, so much so that I kinda forget to look at the menu until the server has returned. Thankfully(?) the menu is really limited, so there isn't much for me to choose from while Morgan orders making the decision very easy.

The food isn't important. It really isn't. I'm too focused on the location, reveling in the feeling of being at home again to some degree. It's not exactly the same of course. The tablecloths are too high-quality, the lamps have actual flames in them, and the tables are too carefully detailed, but it's close enough for me.

I'm so desperate for something like home that even this poor imitation of a generic restaurant is enticing to me. That's depressing, but also very true.

Again, I have to remind myself not to ignore Morgan. She both found and is paying for this, and she's been patiently letting me look around without interruption so far.

"You said…" Morgan says quietly, catching my attention and dragging it back to her. "That this was like _certain_ restaurants back on Earth?"

"Yeah. There were some generic ones, not _cheap_ exactly, just standard, that looked like this. Except all the stuff would be more low-quality. This place is like what those restaurants back home _wanted_ to be."

"So this reminds you of a generic place, huh?" Morgan grins. "Not sure they'd be happy to hear that."

"Too bad for them. I mean that as a compliment." I say. "The generic places usually weren't _bad_ , in fact they were comfortable."

"I'm not sure that's what they're going for here." Morgan says.

"Well yeah, I know."

Morgan tilts her head slightly. "You do?"

"Sure. I noticed how the stuff here was expensive, didn't I? I figured this place wants to be sort of classy."

"Oh, good."

"Did you assume I was oblivious to it?"

"Well… yeah." Morgan admits. "You aren't exactly the most observant."

Fair. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Morgan says with a smile. "It's kinda cute sometimes actually. I don't mind explaining things."

I'm really going to have to get used to that. I can't get embarrassed every single time I get called cute. It just feels so weird to get a complement. I rarely ever used to get those. "Well good, because I imagine there's going to be a lot more of that when we actually get to Ylisstol…"

"Yeah…" Morgan murmurs. "Speaking of Ylisstol, I don't think it will happen but we should have a backup plan if we can't convince our parents of who we are. I hope it doesn't happen, but it never hurts to plan."

"Ah, right." I frown. I do remember that our current plan basically relies on _me_ using my knowledge to convince the Shepherds that the future kids are actually future kids. No pressure or anything. "Well… I guess we'd just go find more of you future kids until Lucina reveals herself. We could go south for Laurent, though anyone else would require going to either the other continent or Plegia's west coast, both of which are dangerous for obvious reasons."

"I was expecting a plan about finding a way home for you." Morgan says honestly.

"That can be done at any point. The sooner the better, but making sure this world and all of you are going to be alright is a bit higher priority in terms of things to actively work towards."

"Aww, you do care."

"Was there ever any doubt?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Morgan waves it off. "Nah, just wanted to make a quip. Especially towards me it's super obvious. I mean, considering all that effort you spend to stop me from rolling into fires, _which I only did once thank you_."

"I stand by my choices. Don't want you hurt." I mumble.

"You also carried me around all the time."

"It was something I could do for you."

"So, again, you're extremely obvious." Morgan says with a wide grin. "Please don't stop. I love attention."

"I've noticed, as has literally everyone else who's ever talked to you."

"I hope so. I wouldn't want them missing out on the valuable chance to flatter me!"

"What a travesty that would be."

"Of course! After all, what could make someone happier than seeing _me_ happy?" Morgan asks.

"Cake?"

"Well that's just unfair. How can I compare with _cake_?" Morgan huffs.

I mean, you're way better Morgan, but saying that would ruin the joke. "I'll have to remember that. You think you are inferior to cake."

"Let it be known! Cake is superior to the genius tactician!"

"I guess birthday cake is just an insult to you then."

"Birthday cake?"

I blink. "Is… is that not a thing here?"

"Not that I know."

I guess a lot of the poorer people here couldn't afford cake, so it makes sense that it's not an established tradition, but… "My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined."

"Mm-hmm." Morgan hums. She digs into her coat for a moment and, to my confusion, pulls out her notebook, ink, and quill. "What kind of cake do you mean by the way?"

"Uh…" How do I describe birthday cake? "It's usually very soft, with icing."

"Icing?"

"It's… uh… sugar? A glaze sort of? The most common are vanilla flavoured and chocolate. Same goes for the cake itself."

"Right." Morgan scribbles that down in her notebook. I didn't figure that would be important enough to write down, but… maybe she's interested in trying it? "Also, while we're on the topic, what's your birthday?"

"March first."

"March?"

Shit. "This world has a different calendar, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. So, when's March? Actually, when does the calendar change to a new year?"

"Uh… early winter? December is the last month and about the start of winter, and then at the end of that month the year changes, and then there's roughly two more months of winter. March is the month after those two months."

"Okay." Morgan nods. "Actually… how many months in a year does your calendar have?"

"Twelve."

"How many days in a month?"

"Thirty or thirty one, alternating, except February which usually has twenty-eight with an additional day every four years."

"Right… so this world has sixteen months, four for each season."

"What."

"Each month is twenty five days."

" _What_."

"And each day is divided into fifty hours."

" _WHAT._ "

"Okay, that last one was a joke. It's twenty four."

"Thank God that's normal." I sigh. "But sixteen months? Wow…"

"I guess that would be unusual to you, huh?" Morgan hums. "Also, for us the calendar switches over when spring starts, not during winter."

"What the fuck. I mean, that does make it a lot easier to keep track of, but…" I frown. "That's so weird. To me at least. I guess that would make my birthday some time within the first month then, or maybe at the start of the second? Spring's start was inexact back on Earth. It's starting point actually changed depending on the year."

"You think our calendar is weird, but you have seasons that change their starting point, a month that randomly has an extra day every four years and doesn't have as many otherwise, and an arbitrary starting point for the new year." Morgan points out.

"Okay, fair enough…"

"So what do we want to say your birthday is? First month? Start of the second?"

"I'm used to it being on a first day, so let's just say the start of the second month." I say. I feel like there's something I'm missing here. Is there something I'm supposed to say? To do? What is it…?

Wait, wait, this is obvious. I seriously need to start remembering these things.

"When is yours?" I ask quickly. Of course I need to ask that. It's an obvious thing that I should do. I can't just let this be about me, right? Or am I overthinking? How does this relationship thing work? How much are you supposed to think?

"Fifth of Pegasus."

"Pegasus?"

"Fourth month."

"Right." I nod. "Wait… winter ended just a bit ago, right?"

"Well it's been more than a month that's for sure." Morgan says. "I'm not sure if we're in the second or third month at the moment."

"Right." So basically, her birthday is soon. Right. Okay. Uh. Panic time? Panic later? Panic later. _Don't forget._ Purple then black, fifth of the fourth. Right. " _I am so fucked. What is my three silver going to be able to get?_ "

Worry about it later. Just worry about it later. Soon, but later.

"Okay, so-" Morgan puts away her ink and quill and notebook. "If you're done, we should probably get to doing our actual mission."

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's probably a good idea." I say. "And after that, we can go look at that game shop."

"I totally forgot about that!" Morgan says eagerly. "We _have_ to do that! Let's do our job quickly so we can do that!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, zero plot in this chapter, but a lot of worldbuilding. Also starting to lay the groundwork for Nathan's future improvement, if just with very basic things at the moment. This chapter wasn't exactly intended to be zero plot and all character interaction and worldbuilding at first, but when the idea came to mind I ran with it and it fit so well. The island was a perfect place for this all to happen too. I couldn't make the restaurant or miniature shop work again until they hit Ylisstol, so I grabbed the opportunity when I saw it.
> 
> Also, I've been doing some thinking about how this story is going to work in the future, and I've realized a few things:
> 
> First: dealing with the main plotline of Awakening will be a pain with Nathan. Not that I can't do it, I have several things planned out, but Nathan by nature of his character won't be dealing with combat all that much, and while that's very intentional it does make things difficult insofar as it would lean to having a lot of important events (battles and confrontation) happen off-screen because he simply won't be around.
> 
> Second: even if this is not supposed to be a super plot-driven story (the main point of this story was actually to have Nathan interact with the future children, but as a consequence the first two pickups being Noire, who is shy, and Kjelle, who is an ass, that hasn't really happened yet. I have a plan to fix this, but it will take time) that doesn't mean I can avoid the problems of the first point. Even if this story is more concerned with character relationships and worldbuilding than plot, plot is important enough that having major events happen offscreen is still an issue.
> 
> Third: I have an idea to deal with those issues. I already have a tool that is perfectly suited to patch those problems in the story. Her name is Morgan, maybe you've heard of her. Morgan is already established as an important character, she already has a POV chapter and you all know she's going to get more. I honestly think a good solution to some of the problems this still will have is going to be bumping up how often we get a Morgan POV. Especially when dealing with the Valm war, the fact that Morgan will actually go into combat and deal with the war firsthand is invaluable.
> 
> I had a debate before this story became its own thing about whether Morgan warranted being considered a second main protagonist and should have a POV just as often as Nathan. I mentioned this back in chapter 7. I decided against it before because this is ostensibly Nathan's story, but I'm starting to realize that, maybe just for practical reasons, I'm going to need Morgan's POV more than once every five-to-seven chapters. Not right now, the story can function as-is for a bit, but when we hit a certain point (different than the trigger I mentioned last chapter, but you'll know what this one is when you see it too) you'll be seeing a lot more of Morgan's POV.
> 
> So that's two triggers for you to watch out for now. One soon, and one a bit down the road. I don't think there will be any more major triggers to watch out for.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting back on track to the actual plot now. Nah must be found! Also, board games, because Nathan and Morgan know their priorities. I also considered making this a Morgan chapter but decided against it. I realized there wasn't enough reason to justify using her here… and I haven't hit my five chapter minimum.
> 
> Morgan is just so good though!

"I didn't even know this was open…" I admit.

"What? Did you think taverns were only open at night?"

"Yeah. I didn't figure it was _profitable_ for them to be open before dinner." I say.

"Well sure, but some people have rooms in taverns." Morgan reminds me while scoping out the room. " _We_ slept in a tavern in that first town. It's not like they would just turn away people who actually rented rooms there."

"Right. That didn't cross my mind…" I say sheepishly. "Erm… what makes you think anyone here is even going to be able to direct us towards a mage? Shouldn't we be looking for, uh, _richer_ people?"

"We will if this fails." Morgan says. "But if there's going to be any _cheap_ mages we can talk to, then these people will know about them. If we talk to someone rich and we're likely going to get more costly recommendations because that's who they're likely to go to."

I hadn't considered that. This is why Morgan leads. She's smart. Though I'm not sure why we don't just talk to people outside rather than talking to people who are in the middle of something. I also had no idea how we were going to approach any of these people, they're all occupied in their drinks or conversations after all, but Morgan solves that rather quickly.

And when I say she "solves" that, I mean she walks right up to the closest person, a huge man a head taller than me with bulging muscles, and taps the table next to him to grab his attention. I'm not sure who's more surprised: the man, or me watching Morgan do this.

"Hi there!" Morgan chirps. "I've got a quick question if ya don't mind!"

"I do mind kid." The man says gruffly. "Kinda drinkin' here."

Morgan calmly tosses a silver onto the table and continues speaking like he didn't just tell her to leave. "So anyways, my and my companion are looking for a mage that can scry for us, but we can't afford anything _too_ pricey, so if you're capable of telling us who we should find, or at least pointing us in the right direction, we'd appreciate it."

The man eyes Morgan tiredly, then sighs and nudges the silver back to her. "No idea kid. Ask someone else. Ain't never needed no mage."

"Thank you for your cooperation." Morgan says, maybe a bit too smugly. She then goes on to repeat the same process several times with other people in the room while I watch in mild horror as she butts into conversations and flagrantly bribes people into listening to her with silver.

Like, I know Morgan is confident, but I didn't expect a complete lack of care for social boundaries and calmly throwing money around. I'm fairly sure she's irritating all these people and the only reason they're talking to her is because she's shoving money in their faces.

Also, the bartender is glaring at Morgan, so I take the hint to grab Morgan by the arm and pull her out of the tavern.

"Aww, but I was getting somewhere." She pouts.

"You were also ten seconds away from getting thrown out by the bartender." I scold. "You can't just bother people like that."

"Can't I?"

"I- well not where some authority can _see_ you." I cough. "I suppose if the bartender wasn't there you could have got away with it."

"Ahh, right." Morgan grins. "Noted."

I should have just said "don't bother people" instead of encouraging her to avoid authorities. I'm a bad influence. "How about we find some other taverns for you to get kicked out of?"

"Hell yeah!"

Morgan does end up getting a few leads after pestering enough tavern-goers. I also manage to get a lead by poking around some of the market stalls and asking if people know where to find the mage called "Jarvin" or "Darius" or "Lance" or whatever random name comes to mind, and by pure chance one of the stall owners knows that there is a mage called Lewis (they assumed I was getting the name wrong when asking for Lance) and points me towards the Siren's Call.

So maybe that's not a usable lead, because the Siren's Call is a super costly place to go, but I'm surprised I got _any_ leads out of doing that.

Morgan's leads, once we look into them, are less costly but always useless. We actually track down a few of the mages, only to find out that Morgan is probably more skilled than they are and none of them know how to scry.

The last one we track down is a con-artist who _pretends_ to do magic to swindle people who have never actually seen magic used before. Morgan threatens to fry him if he doesn't tell us where to find an actually competent mage, but he has no idea unfortunately.

So Morgan gives him advice on how to more accurately imitate magic to swindle people with more wealth, pats him on the back, and then leaves.

"He looks poor!" Morgan explains when I raise an eyebrow at her. "I couldn't _not_ help him."

"After you threatened to burn him?"

"Well I had to see if he had information first." Morgan says unabashedly. "What else was I supposed to do?"

All of our viable leads so far are duds. Maybe we deserve that for shooting so low.

"What are we going to tell Kjelle and Noire?" I mumble.

"That we didn't find anything." Morgan shrugs. "No big deal."

"Kjelle is probably going to berate us for it."

"She'll just be jealous that _we_ actually enjoyed ourselves." Morgan smirks. "I bet she spent the _whole time_ searching and didn't enjoy herself at all. She probably did all the real work for us."

"You manipulative little… witch." I say, trying not to smile. "With a capital B. You're awful."

"Awfully _smart_!" Morgan preens. "Not to mention hot, and skilled, and-"

"Loud."

"I was going to say _humble_ , but fine, be that way." She huffs. "What happened to you being a supportive boyfriend?"

"I am supportive, I told you to avoid authority figures. I'm just not nice. Two different things."

"I'm not sure encouraging my dubious actions counts as being _supportive_."

"I never said I was supporting _good_ habits."

"Ah, so you are a corruptor of young women." Morgan grins. "Teaching me horrible, nasty, _disgusting_ things."

"I'm teaching you to be a criminal, not a prostitute." I scoff.

"You say that like it's better to be encouraging _illegal_ activity than lewdness." Morgan snorts. "I see how it is."

"'Tis much better to be a young woman of dubious morals than a degenerate." I say, holding my head up high. "There are men who will take a deviant girl, but no one wants a _used toy._ "

Morgan immediately bursts out laughing. " _Wow_ , way to make it sound awful! Planning to marry me off, are we?"

"Of course. What _other_ use is there for a girl?" I sneer. "You may as well make me money in the meantime if you can learn to steal and sneak, but I'll be glad to trade you for a fat load of gold at the earliest possible convenience. Women are such insufferable wet blankets."

"You- ha-" Morgan tries to say, but devolves into a giggle fit. "I- I- hehe-!"

I have no idea what was so funny about that, but Morgan is laughing so much that she has to stop walking and lean against me. Something about our act this time made her break down, and I really don't get it, but it's great to see her so happy. "Why does me pretending to be a terrible person make you laugh so much?" I ask, and wrap an arm around her shoulders just to make sure she doesn't fall over, but I can't help but continue the act a bit in hopes to make her laugh more. "Honestly, women, so emotional…"

That only makes her laugh harder, and she clings to me to stop from collapsing. We're getting a few looks as you might expect from someone having a laughing fit in the middle of a street.

"Morgan, seriously, what's so funny about it?" I ask. I'm grinning now, and we don't need _both_ of us collapsing in the streets because we're laughing too hard.

"I d-don't knooooow!" Morgan whines in between her laughter. "I- heh- something about _y-you_ saying all that is just- hehe- hilarious!"

I think that's a compliment. "Well pull yourself together, wench."

"Stooooop!" She whines again, clutching her sides as I am now basically carrying her. Her expression is a wide-stretched smile that's probably going to hurt her face if she keeps smiling so much.

"I didn't put in all this effort training you just to end up with _another_ hysterical woman."

She groans as her laughter genuinely starts to hurt her sides, and just so we can keep walking I pick her up off the ground and cradle her as she continues to weeze and giggle into the furs around my neck.

"I've never seen you laugh so hard." I say, and pat her back with one hand in a vague attempt to be helpful. Morgan has her face fully hidden in my furs and is no longer laughing uproariously, but her body is still shaking with laughter and she's hiccuping intermittently. "Uh, you are going to be alright… right?"

Morgan doesn't respond with words and instead slaps me on the chest with one hand, only to dig her fingers into the fur when she starts to snicker again a second later.

Noire and Kjelle stare when I walk into the inn carrying Morgan, who still hasn't recovered enough to talk above a whisper due to her laughing fit completely wrecking her voice. Noire thinks we got attacked, and Kjelle thinks it's another one of our acts.

Kjelle is not happy to hear all our leads were duds. She, at the very least, managed to find some useful leads.

###

"Remember, we're mercenaries." Morgan instructs. "Nathan, and I mean this as politely as possible, but please don't talk unless I tell you to. Just… cross your arms and try to look scary, or something."

"Fine." I mumble. I understand why. I'm the most likely to say something weird and get us unwanted attention. The best lead Kjelle got us has led us to a decently well-off part of the town. It's not one of the manions in the countryside, but it's still a nice house. "I'm not sure I can do scary though."

"Don't worry too much." Morgan says. "We need you here to make sure anything we see or are told is on-level and makes sense. Looking scary is a nice secondary, but unnecessary."

"Right."

With that out of the way, we approach the house. Morgan is in front with Kjelle next to her, and me and Noire behind. From what Kjelle heard, this mage (with the innocuous name of Matthew) is usually hired by merchants or ship captains with enough coin. He gives services like sending messages via magic ( _much_ faster than any conventional way), predicting weather (useful for planning future ventures), basic item enchantments (sometimes weapons but usually trinkets or clothes, and enchantments are often basic like making the item immune to wear and tear, or for a merchant it might be making the item grant the wearer some extra confidence or charm), and so on. Matthew is not cheap by most people's standards, he usually charges a gold or two per spell, but that's well within our price range.

Morgan knocks on the front of the door. I quietly suck in a breath and hold it. There's a tense twenty seconds as we wait for a response or any sign of life from inside the house. It eventually comes in the form of the door opening.

Matthew is… a dwarf. I don't mean that in the fantasy sense of dwarf, I mean dwarfism. He's small and thin and only comes up to Morgan's collarbone, but still looks distinctly adult with a pointed chin, boney fingers, slick yellow hair, and sunken, calculating grey eyes.

"Hellooo there." He says calmly. Even though he's shorter than everyone here, he has his head tilted far enough back to look down his nose at us. That can't be good for his neck. "Aaare you cuuustomers?"

"Yes." Morgan says, also holding her head high and looking down her nose. She and Matthew are engaging in a silent staring match. "If you're capable of scrying, anyways."

"Scryyying?" Matthew repeats. He holds out a hand. "I am moore than capable of doing that. Threeee gold for a scry."

"One now, two upon completion." Morgan says.

"Aaacceptable."

She hands over a gold, and Matthew beckons us inside. The house seems comically large compared to Matthew's size, and I can't help but notice all the doorknobs are lower than normal to accommodate him. They're so low I'd have to bend over just to reach them.

"For whaaat reason do you need a scryyy?" Matthew asks as we walk through the house, glancing back at Morgan in the process.

"We're looking for a friend. She came here to investigate rumors of a portal and didn't come back when she said she would, so we're here to find her." Morgan says.

Matthew hums and nods. He notably stopped looking at Morgan as soon as she said the word "friend". How odd. Was he expecting something else?

I don't think Matthew's spell room (is that what it would be called? What would you call it?) is meant to fit four people, but we carefully file into the room anyways. Matthew magics a large bowl (and I mean _large_ , it's the size of a table) off a shelf and sets it down in the middle of the room and gestures for us to sit around it. With a snap of his fingers the bowl is filled with clear water, and he then takes a few seconds to pour some sort of sparkly powder inside.

"I will neeeed one of yooou to help me." Matthew says. "I caaannot scy on someone I dooo not know. Yooou will have to direeect the spell."

Morgan glances toward Kjelle and Noire, as they actually know what Nah looks like in person. Kjelle takes initiative and, as Matthew instructs her, puts her hands on the bowl and focuses on Nah.

"Nooow." Matthew says. "Fooocus on your target."

It takes a minute for the spell to properly take effect, but we notice instantly when it does. The water in the bowl ripples and distorts, and then settles into an image. At the center of that image is Nah. Just like everyone else from the game, her game portrait is startlingly accurate to her actual appearance. Just like all the other kids she has the hair color you see in official artwork, that being light green, and she's wearing her doll-like dress.

She's also sitting in a room, sitting cross-legged on a very basic bed while staring with furrowed eyebrows at a door. The room doesn't have much in it. There's the bed, a window with no opening latch, a table and a chair with an empty plate of food and a half-full glass of water, and a lamp up in the top corner of the room, well out of Nah's reach. The table and bed are also bolted to the floor, which is _way_ suspicious. The room is well-painted and looks clean, but I have very little doubt it's a prison cell.

I glance at Morgan to see if she's noticed, and judging by the scowl on her face she's also figured it out. She speaks up. "Can we see anything else? The surrounding area?"

"Indeeed we caaan." Matthew says. He lightly drags a finger over the surface of the water, creating ripples, and when the water settles once more we have a different view. There's a mansion now taking up most of the picture. It's got… three visible levels, the walls are painted a mix of light and dark greys, and the roof is a stark purple and looks to be made of stone shingles. We can also see some well-trimmed hedges around the building.

"Can you tell us where this is, exactly?" Morgan asks. "Or let us see even more?"

"I can looocate it, yeees." Matthew says. "It will cooost another goold."

"Deal." Morgan says quickly. "Do it."

"Graaab my map." Matthew points to the side at a shelf, and Noire hastily grabs the item and hands it to him. Matthew unrolls the map, placing it on the ground next to him, and closes his eyes while keeping a hand on the bowl. It takes him a few seconds, but he eventually plants a finger on the map. "I haaave located your friiiend."

Morgan pulls out her notebook, ink, and quill, ready to draw a crude map because we don't have one, only for Matthew to say:

"I caaan give you the maaap, but-"

"Fine, here." Morgan cuts him off, giving him yet another gold and snagging and marking the map. Matthew smiles serenely, probably quite pleased with himself for getting such a large sum of money out of us. Five gold total just for a scrying spell and a map. Even I can tell that's a rip-off.

Still, we know where Nah is now. Maybe it's costly, but it will be worthwhile.

"Dooo come back agaaain if you have need of my seeervices!" Matthew calls after us as we leave the house. None of us answer him.

"Nah is in trouble." Is the first thing I say when we're a reasonable distance away.

"Yeah." Morgan agrees quietly. "She doesn't look injured, at least."

"She must not have her dragonstone." Kjelle adds. "Or else she could bust out no problem."

"I wonder." I say. "If that's the same mansion as her paralogue."

"It would make sense for it to be, wouldn't it?" Morgan says.

"Well yes, but that also has some worrying implications, because there were Risen in the mansion during her paralogue."

Those words bring a chill over the group, and we all come to the same conclusion.

"Grimleal." Kjelle says quietly. "It has to be."

"I hope Nah will be okay…" Noire mumbles.

"Grimleal are the religious nuts, right?" Morgan asks me.

"Yeah." I nod. "I also guess the game was misleading about Nah's situation. Based on her dialogue, I expected her to be walking around the countryside before ending up in the mansion because she seemed unfamiliar with the place and not particularly worse for wear."

"We've already established your creepy game isn't accurate all the time." Kjelle huffs. "That's not relevant now anyways."

Well yeah, but it's relevant for future reference. I have to figure out to what extent I can trust my game knowledge. It's my only asset!

"So, uh… I guess we have to break in and get her out?" I mutter. "How are we going to do that?"

"With magic and stealth." Morgan says. "Or some deception. You said before that my cloak looks sorta grimleal right?"

"Yes." It has the eye pattern and all the right colors. "I have no idea if it's an official look or anything though."

"Well, maybe just as a backup plan I could try and weasel my way into the trust of the mansion owner." Morgan says. "Maybe I've been sent from… uh…"

"Validar." I provide.

"Who's that?" Morgan blinks.

Oh, right, I never actually explained Validar to her, mostly because of the fact that it's her _grandfather_ but Robin might not know that, so I wasn't sure if I should be mentioning it. I beckon her close and whisper in her ear. "Your grandfather."

Her eyes widen. " _What?_ "

"Well, uh…" I make some awkward hand motions as I try to explain in a way that doesn't make me sound stupid. "He's the leader of the grimleal, and your father's father, but your father doesn't know that, so I wasn't sure if I should mention it before, and then I kinda forgot I didn't mention it."

She frowns. "That's sort of important Nathan."

"I know, it's just… remember how I don't like to reveal personal information about people?" I say. "It's like that, except your father doesn't know yet, so I wasn't sure if I should share. Also, he's an ass and will totally die at some point."

"I still would have liked to know." Morgan says. "Anything else you've avoided telling me?"

"Several things." I admit. "I… I don't want to change important events because I don't want to knock the world off a path I know can lead to victory."

"Hmm…" Morgan clearly does not approve. "Is it justified though?"

"What?"

"Do weird things have to happen to guarantee a win, or are you just worried that change might end up badly without a reason to assume so?" Morgan asks. "I'm trusting you to be truthful here Nathan."

Well fuck, okay, think. I haven't told her about things like the fact that Robin sort of gets mind-controlled because I have no idea if throwing that information out there will change the plan to something I can't predict. I suppose that isn't necessary to guarantee a win _as far as I'm aware_ , but I'm worried that it might remove our chance to take out Validar if we somehow avoid the mind-control. I suppose that is just me being paranoid though. "I guess there's no _guaranteed_ reason…"

"Then tell me next time we're alone." Morgan whispers. "Alright?"

"I- fine." I mumble. I don't want to, but fine. I know I'm being paranoid, and I _do_ trust Morgan, but it still doesn't feel right.

"You wanted me to be truthful, this is just returning the favor." Morgan murmurs. "Right?"

"Right." That's a good point. I did tell her to share her plans, so this is only fair.

"Are you two done whispering?" Kjelle asks. "We need to get a move on!"

"It's nearly dinner time Kjelle." Morgan points out. "There's no point in travelling today."

"We could make a few hours of progress before sundown." Kjelle argues.

"Nope." Morgan says. "We're not leaving today. Deal with it. Me and Nathan still have another store to visit anyways."

"You're going to let Nah stay locked up in that cell so you can go _shopping_?" Kjelle snaps.

"Kjelle, three hours won't make a difference." Morgan says flatly. "It's not like she's going to be in any actual danger for another, what, _year_ or two according to the game? Nah wasn't hurt, and it didn't look like she was being starved or anything, so shut up."

Kjelle grinds her teeth and glowers. "Your priorities are disgusting."

"And you're being irrational." Morgan says dismissively. "Besides, you didn't put up much of a fight before. You accepted my money even. Speaking of that, what did you two do with it?"

"None of your-"

"She got her armor repaired and paid extra to have it done today." Noire says. She digs into her pocket and hands about sixty silver back to Morgan. "I-I spent mine on some candy, and a new dagger, and I had lunch at a nice place."

Kjelle silently hands over one gold and forty silver. "Look-"

"I don't have my priorities straight, yadda yadda yadda." Morgan says, not even looking at Kjelle. "I get it, you don't know how to relax. I'm not going to be dragged down to your level. It's not like I'm putting off any _significant_ travel to shop. There's no way we were going to leave today regardless of whether I had something else to do or not."

Kjelle's glare is full of hate. "Lucina would never have allowed this."

Morgan turns up her nose. "Well I'm not Lucina, and if she's so desperate that she's willing to ignore basic practicality of a good night's sleep in a good bed for the sake of a mere three hours of travel to fix a situation that is not even close to being life-or-death, which is a terrible decision, maybe she _shouldn't_ be a leader either."

I'm fairly sure Lucina is a bit more logical than Morgan is pretending, because I don't think Lucina would necessarily agree with Kjelle's decisions. I bet Lucina would wait for tomorrow too, and Kjelle would accept it, but she doesn't want to accept it now because it's _Morgan_ giving the order. Maybe it's something about the way Lucina conveys her orders, or maybe Kjelle is just loyal to Lucina, but something about Morgan pisses her off. Maybe it's Morgan's obvious ego.

"Don't you _dare_ insult her Highness!" Kjelle snarls.

"I wan't. I was insulting _your_ intelligence, and it's your fault that you were putting your own ideas in Lucina's mouth." Morgan says haughtily. "I'm sure she's a perfectly fine leader, but _you_ aren't, so kindly shut the fuck up and let me do what I'm good at. I may make jokes of it, pretending like going shopping actually had any influence over whether we were going to leave being one of them, but I assure you I know exactly what I'm doing. You might be an uncaring golem who will wade through neck-high mud without a care and sleep on a bed of stinging insects to gain ten more seconds of travel time, but the rest of us are _human_ , so until you gain even a modicum of strategic or tactical or logistical sense, or just common sense, don't even _pretend_ you know better than I do."

Our group is absolutely silent. I'm not sure if Kjelle is going to punch Morgan, storm off, or start shouting. All three of them sound very possible. What happens instead though, is that she speaks in a quiet, if furious, voice. "You think I'm an idiot too."

"Yes." Morgan says bluntly, not caring how it might aggravate the situation. "Yes I do."

"Is it because of him?" Kjelle asks, pointing towards me. I suppose she's referring to our confrontation, and how I basically said I thought Kjelle was a moron who couldn't see the bigger picture. "Did he tell you I was a fool?"

"No, I figured it out on my own." Morgan says. "You've got quite a sense of self-importance if you assume we've discussed you at all outside of the context of the group."

I put a hand on Morgan's shoulder and squeeze, and when she glances at me I stare her in the eyes intently and whisper. "Don't make things worse."

Her nose wrinkles and her lips curl in disagreement, but she nods slightly and turns back to Kjelle. That's… honestly unexpected. It's pretty well established that she knows better than me when it comes to most things, so I'm genuinely surprised she's taking my advice. I expected her to take the stance of "Kjelle needs to be put in her place" or something like that.

"I know you don't like me." Morgan says. "Or my decisions, but for all the jokes I make I _am_ using logic when I give orders. You don't have to like it or agree with it, but I'll thank you not to challenge me on literally everything just because you don't like it. We're not all grizzled warriors who will happily sleep on dirt just to prove how hardcore we are. Morale is not insignificant, relaxation is not insignificant, comfort is not insignificant, not even in the face of a battle or a mission, and the sooner you understand that the better. We just spent a week on a boat after multiple months in the bush or crappy tavern rooms, with our only outlet being crossing our fingers and praying there was _something_ of interest in the towns we came across. I am not asking much of you, and Nah will be _fine_. Yes, we are giving up a few hours of progress, but we will be more well rested and in higher spirits for it, and that is not a non-factor."

Kjelle continues to glare, but doesn't look like she's planning to immediately strangle Morgan anymore. There's no more talking until we get back to the inn. We then decide (and by "we" I mean me and Noire) that me and Morgan will go to the store now and when we come back we'll figure out dinner.

Me and Morgan also walk in silence for about half the distance, at which point Morgan finally mumbles. "Kjelle's a bitch."

"Yeah." I say quietly. "You really weren't helping though."

"I know." Morgan says.

"Did you?"

"...no. I just assumed I was after you told me to tone it down." Morgan admits. "I thought I was putting her in her place before that."

Ah, so I was right about her thoughts. "Well you certainly did that… and then some." I cough. "I'm not saying you shouldn't have berated her, it's just that you went too far. I think, maybe, probably." For all I know Kjelle was more in the right. I can absolutely see where Kjelle was coming from. We _are_ putting off time we could be spending getting to Nah for a bit of comfort, but giving up any sort of comfort to always push ahead on whatever mission we have at the moment is also unreasonable.

I don't really know who was right in this situation. Yes, our travel has been annoying, but it wasn't so unbearable that we need to be _desperate_ for comfort. At the same time… some relaxation really is appreciated. It's been half a year (Earth time at least… it's so weird that they have a different number of days) since I've been able to sleep in a nice bed, or go to a restaurant. At the same time, if we moved at a constant scramble to get all the future kids that would be hellish because we'd never have time to relax and enjoy life.

"It felt good to yell at her, to be honest." Morgan admits. "It was refreshing."

"I'd imagine so." I say. Yelling at someone can really take the weight off your shoulders, even if you get in trouble for it. Not that I'd recommend that exactly, but I understand the feeling. "Might I suggest finding some other way to vent next time though?"

"What? Would you prefer I complain to you?" She asks.

"Sure." I say.

"Really?"

"Yep. You've done it once before, remember? Or did you forget?" That was on the ship, after I spent ten minutes whining about having to do work.

"I thought that was a one-time thing." She admits.

"Morgan, I complain to you literally all the time." I remind her. "You can do the same to me. I'm not going to mind."

"Okay…"

"So maybe save the yelling at Kjelle for when she _really_ deserves it."

"I can't yell at her every time she opens her mouth Nathan."

"Fine, when she really _really_ deserves it."

"Aah…" Morgan hums. "I see."

I pat her on the shoulder. "Feeling savage today though, aren't we?"

"Feeling tired." Morgan sighs. "Honestly, I think that laughing fit I had really took it out of me."

"Serves you right, bitch."

She snorts, then groans. "Nathaaan. Dooon't."

"What's so funny about it today? It wasn't before."

"I dunno honestly." Morgan admits. "It just struck me as really weird because it was _you_ trying to be all sexist and mean, and you're probably the least scary and least domineering person I've ever met, and that was funny."

I think that's a compliment. A slightly roundabout compliment, but a compliment. "Well I can't have you dying on me every time we do an act, so as much as I like seeing you laugh I hope you don't break down every time we do an act like that."

"I shouldn't. Morgan says. "It just struck me as acutely funny this one time."

"Good." I say. "Though it's a shame I won't be able to make you laugh all the time now."

Morgan smiles at hearing that. Good, she's gotten over her anger at Kjelle, or at least she's distracted from it. "Is my laugh just that incredible?"

"Basically." Not particularly, I just like that it means she's happy. "Though the fact that you like being insulted… hmm…"

"Lewd girl?" She chirps, spouting one of my standard responses with a shit-eating grin on her face.

"Lewd girl." I affirm, and poke her nose. "Or maybe kinky girl is more accurate."

"Hey, I'll take either, or both. They're accurate." Morgan shrugs.

###

As it turns out the board game shop… has board games. Some of them look pretty interesting, but most of them are pretty basic. I guess I take for granted how easy it is to make pieces and detailed boards on Earth and how much that opens up the possibilities for board games, but seeing the selection before me makes it clear just how underwhelming the variety actually is.

Wait, why is the wargaming scene so developed here, but board games are mediocre? I wonder if it has something to do with the personalization of the miniatures in wargaming. Like, if you're rich, it's cool to have your own custom-painted selection of miniatures, but having a detailed board game just isn't as impressive or rewarding? Or maybe the fact that you have to put in _more_ effort for wargaming is actually a good thing in the eyes of the rich, as it's that much more impressive when you show off your army?

Hmm… the mysteries of wealth… also, I smell a major business opportunity, one that I actually might be able to pull off. I don't know anything about science, but I remember plenty of good board games.

Something something copyright, but whatever, this is a different world. If the companies can track me down to enforce it, then… that's kinda scary because apparently copyright extends across dimensions and some companies know how to dimension hop.

Also, a lot of the board games seem to involve colored marbles or pebbles of some sort. I wonder why that is. But I think this world could really benefit from the invention of Settlers of Catan or Scythe or something.

I _have_ to make Scythe. My favourite board game hands down. There's no way I'm going to remember all the event cards or the position of every tile though, so I'm going to have to improvise.

Also, there's no rule books for any of these games. The store owner has to tell us how they work individually, which is hella annoying. The owner isn't cool like Keene was either, and he looks kind of annoyed with us to be honest.

"Hmm…" Morgan frowns. She speaks in a quiet voice so the owner can't hear us. "A lot of these games are sort of… simple? Underwhelming?"

"Yeah, same thought here." I agree. "Not all of them are bad though. Sometimes simple games are good."

"Some of them are so simple that there's nothing to them though." Morgan says in frustration. "And the other half are all luck, no strategy. I don't mind _some_ luck, but I'd prefer a bit more substance in my games."

"Same." I nod. "I know a few games we can make that should scratch a strategy itch, but making the boards and pieces might be a pain."

"Good thing we only need to make it once then."

"Unless I want to make a business out of it." I say, throwing my idea out there. "I mean, if I know a lot of games this world has never seen, might as well take advantage, right?"

"That's not a half bad idea." Morgan agrees eagerly. "You could probably make some serious money from that."

"We could." I agree.

"We?"

"Well, if you want in." I offer. "And besides, if I ever end up going back to Earth I'd obviously leave what I have to you."

"Ahh." Morgan hums. "That _does_ sound fun. Games could literally be our job."

"Exactly." I say with a wide grin. "And we'd never have to worry about a lack of games if _we're_ the ones making them."

"We'd have to figure out how to make them efficiently." Morgan muses. "Especially if some of them are complex."

"We don't have to recreate them in full visual detail, just enough that you can play them." I remind her. I don't have to do the art for all the cards in Scythe, I just need readable cards, and the mechs don't have to be that detailed, and the board doesn't need art either it just needs the trackers and resource identifiers. Sure, if I could recreate games in full detail I'd love to, but purely on a practical level that won't work, however we should be able to manage a simplified version of the games in terms of visuals. Artwork is secondary to gameplay in _games_ after all.

Yes… I think I like this idea. This is something I could actually see myself enjoying in this world. Video games may not exist in this world, but board games are an acceptable substitute. This is putting aside the fact that I have no idea how to run a business of course, but that's a hurdle that can be crossed later.

"I think I like this plan." Morgan says. "We shall be the game masters, bestowing our otherworldly games upon this drab world like the divine gifts that they are!"

"Does that make us gods then?" I ask. "If we are bestowing divine gifts? The gods of games?"

"Exactly." Morgan says. "We will have to dress appropriately as we gift our _inspired masterpieces_ to the _dimwitted_ humans."

The shop owner is giving us a flat stare as we do our bit in the middle of his shop. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't kicked us out yet.

"By the way." I mumble. "Maaaybe we should buy something since we've been fucking around in the store for so long, and there are some decent games."

"Ah, right, being _polite_." Morgan huffs. "Okay, fine, which one do we think?"

We end up buying Barrels because they have a copy here and Morgan remembered she wanted to buy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kjelle has a point though. They are more or less trading Nah being saved three hours earlier for a shopping trip. Yes, that is questionable in terms of priorities. Morgan isn't necessarily in the right in her final decision, she's just in charge. There's a very legitimate argument to be made for leaving immediately to get Nah.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the road again. Well, for a moment at least. How are they going to get Nah out? Who knows? I don't… yet. I'll have to figure it out if I'm going to write it.
> 
> Just a heads up, this is a longer chapter.

"You don't spit into the wind." I sing under my breath. "You don't pull the mask of that old Lone Ranger and you don't mess around with Jim."

The group has been understandably tense since Morgan and Kjelle's confrontation yesterday. That tension has so far manifested as a refusal by the two to talk to each other, and our group splitting into two pairs as we march (granted, we're always in two pairs, but in this case specifically…) with Kjelle and Noire staying a dozen or so meters in front of us at all times as we travel.

Morgan has been unusually quiet for the most part. I don't really think it has much to do with Kjelle though. She's muttering plans under her breath, and will occasionally speak up to bounce something off me to see if I can find any faults. The most common problem she's running into is our simple lack of manpower. We can't attack the mansion head-on with our limited numbers, especially with the knowledge that there might be mire users.

Stealth plans fall apart with the possibility of shifting walls. Nah's paralogue has walls rising and falling, and that will totally screw with our ability to get around quickly or remember paths, and that's not taking into account the possibility that the walls can be actively controlled. So far, Morgan's best plan involves trying to get into the mansion as a servant to scope the place out, but that's risky as none of us are particularly skilled at deception nor know how to do usual servant tasks. It's not that we couldn't do them (with the exception of me, as I might not know how something works) but that we couldn't do them well enough to pass as actually skilled servants. We'd either get fired or found out real quick.

Still, Morgan continues to mull over possibilities, and I avoid distracting her by keeping my voice down. Travelling is infinitely more dull without being able to talk to Morgan all that often.

"I should have asked for a better view." Morgan says suddenly, just before lunch. "I just- I can't make a detailed plan without knowing the terrain. I don't know where the entrances are going to be, or the windows, or if there's a river entry somewhere for bringing in supplies. We're going to have to scout. At the very least I need to know what's outside of the manor."

"We'll scout when we get there then." I say. "No problem. You can't be expected to plan for everything."

"But I'm a tactician, that's my job." Morgan grumbles.

"Boy, being a tactician is tough. Got to plan for four-hundred headed hydras when invading a manor." I say sarcastically.

"You know what I mean." Morgan huffs.

"Yeah, but you also see my point." I retort. "You're a genius, not a literal god that can process all possible variables of any situation in one day. Actually, I don't think Sothis can do that either, so you'd have to be _more_ than a god… dess. Goddess technically." Are all the Fire Emblem gods female? I don't know enough about the pre-Awakening games to be able to answer that. I think there's one called Yune…?

"But how am I supposed to prove my mental superiority if I don't have a detailed and complete battle plan ready before I've even gotten a proper look at the location we'll be dealing with?" Morgan asks rhetorically. "It doesn't matter if I'm a genius if no one _knows_ Nathan! I have to rub it in their faces!"

Ah, so we've delved into joke territory. I'm going to assume my point was made and Morgan is now transitioning into our usual routine as an acknowledgement of that. "They're not going to know if your plan is last-minute or not. As long as the plan is fantastic and they are sufficiently outsmarted, you can consider their senses of self-worth sufficiently annihilated." I say. "And you can loudly proclaim your superiority to everyone in earshot… _after_ we leave the island and the earshot of any friends the mansion owner might have."

"And you'll keep reminding me of how much of an utter _genius_ I am, right?"

"I do that already." I remind her. A grin crosses my face as something comes to mind. "And I thought it was insults you liked."

Morgan shrugs, also smiling. "Insults, compliments, as long as it's about _me_."

"Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

"What? I just enjoy getting feedback of all kinds." Morgan says with faux innocence.

"Feedback is it now?" I scoff. "Suuure. 'Feedback'. Right, got it. It has nothing to do with being the center of attention."

"Well I never said that." She says, grinning widely. "So more compliments please!"

"It never occurred to you that I already flatter you too much?"

"You can flatter someone too much?"

In hindsight that's very in-character of her to say. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Luck has nothing to do with it." Morgan says, and holds her head high and tosses her hair over her shoulder. "It's a result of my brilliant mind."

"Because physical attractiveness has always been correlated with intelligence." I say dryly.

"Of course." Morgan preens. "That's why I'm vastly superior to everyone else in every conceivable way. I can't believe you managed to land me without even considering this."

"I suppose I have an astounding amount of good luck then."

"Damn straight!"

###

Despite how developed the island is, there are surprisingly few inns outside of the port town. Morgan thinks it might be because, due to this being a place for rich people, if you come further into the island it's probably because you _own_ a place so inns are unnecessary because there are rarely any travellers.

And so, despite being right near town, we are forced to find somewhere to camp for the night as the only inns that do exist there are _absurdly_ expensive.

So that's how our group finds itself nestled between a fallen tree and a rocky hill several dozen meters away from a main path.

You can see a distinct difference in flora on this island compared to the Feroxi mainland. The Feroxi mainland had pine and other coniferous trees for the most part, the ones that survive well in the cold. This island has some more tropical trees, I think, though I don't recognize any in particular so I can't say for sure. Basically, I don't see any palm trees. I'm not familiar with other tropical tree types. For all I know, these trees are entirely unique to this world. I'm assuming the trees are tropical due to large leaf sizes, but I don't know botany so I have no idea if that's relevant or not.

I wonder if mangroves exist in this world. I've seen some when I've gone on vacation before. They're super cool.

There are also different animals, and this I _do_ know something about. When it comes to islands, they tend to have very unique ecosystems and might have species that you won't find anywhere else due to being sheltered away from the rest of the world. Admittedly that makes them especially vulnerable to invasive species, as being so sheltered means that the species on the island might lack tools to deal with new threats. Not that invasive species aren't always a problem, but they cause extra damage to islands.

Anyhow, for animals, I've seen what I think is an albatross, some lizards (which I didn't see _at all_ in Ferox), a toad, and some weird mammal that I can't identify. A mongoose maybe? It sort of reminded me of… yungoos.

It was probably a mongoose then. Noire shot it and we ate it. I don't think mongooses are something you usually eat on Earth, and I can see why. They taste awful.

In addition to all that, we suddenly don't need our extra blankets anymore. It's now warm enough, due to use moving south and it becoming spring, that the weather isn't as cold. It's not too warm that I can't snuggle with Morgan around the fire at least.

Knowing Morgan's interest in games, I've recently taken to explaining any and every game I can remember. I think I'm just whetting her appetite to actually be able to play them at some point, based on how often she says some variant of "I _have_ to play that!"

Kjelle has been brooding the entire day in silence. She puts intense focus into maintaining her spear and trains quietly off to the side of the camp. I'm honestly surprised there hasn't been more arguing, but Kjelle hasn't brought up the confrontation at all. I don't know if that's a good sign and she's accepted Morgan's leadership or if she's stewing in spite.

Noire has been similarly quiet, though that's not unusual for her. She was never chatty before and I don't think that's going to change. I have no idea how much the conflict has affected her because she really just doesn't talk.

I'm tempted to try and talk to Noire, but considering the last time I tried to do that didn't go so well I refrain from trying.

I must also admit I'm worried for how we're going to free Nah. I doubt this is something I'm going to be able to avoid, I'm almost certainly going to have to participate. I won't complain, but I am worried. If we end up fighting, I'm the most likely member of our team to die or get injured due to my inexperience. I'm hoping Morgan thinks of a plan that involves deception rather than combat, but considering the manor owner might be grimleal I don't have high hopes.

###

"I can see _for miles_!"

"Morgan, you're on my shoulders, not a tower."

"I should have done this earlier! Why didn't I think of this?!"

"You tried. There were too many trees."

"This is great!"

"You've stated as much several times." I don't see what's so fantastic about it, but I won't complain if she's enjoying herself.

"Don't pretend you don't like it too!" Morgan huffs. "You have a cute girl's thighs around your head! That's the best thing ever, and don't you try and deny it!"

Ignoring, of course, the fact that she has very bulky pants on which kinda reduces anything even vaguely exciting about it, but I'm not about to say that. I wouldn't put it past Morgan to do something weird if I mentioned that. Lewd girl…

Morgan is so much different than I expected considering how she is in the games. There are some similar traits of course, like her absolute shamelessness when it comes to her own decisions. I remember supports where she flagrantly manipulates people with maybe a token apology at the end but no real indication that she felt bad for her manipulation. There's also her sadism of course, which she has in small amounts both in supports and in reality. The differences in Morgan are pretty noticeable though. There's obviously the fact that she's a lewd girl which wouldn't come up in game because, well, it's a Nintendo game. Family friendly and all that bullshit. Her massive ego, which I think is half joke half real, wasn't really touched upon in game either.

"No retort? I was right on the nose, wasn't I?" Morgan preens. She squeezes her legs around my neck. "I know, I'm a genius, and my thighs are great."

"Uh-huh, sure." I say, and absently pat her lower leg. "We'll go with that."

"Aww, c'mon, at least play along!" Morgan pouts. "Indulge your girlfriend!"

"I do that literally all the time." I remind her. "And besides…" I poke her thigh. "Your chicken legs ain't gonna do _shit_ for no one!"

"How _dare_ you!" Morgan gasps while smiling. "I'll have you know I put in a lot of effort to keep myself as _toned_ as I am! Tone! You hear that!? Not skinny!"

"Who cares about tone?" I scoff. "I demand _thickness_!"

"Oh _that's_ how it is?" Morgan huffs. "I'm too much of a thin bitch, huh? You only go for women with thighs the size of your head? Probably chests too."

"Exactly." I say, and try to sound as snobby and pretentious as possible. "A thin waist is required however. The hourglass figure is paramount! The more exaggerated the better! Waists the size of a dime! Hips larger than a horse! _That_ is what I desire!"

Morgan snorts. "Very high standards you have there."

"Not only for women! Men have their own standards they must meet!" I proclaim. They must have ten pack abs, chest muscles the size of window frames, and boulders for biceps!"

"You don't even meet your own standards."

"I'm _working_ on it!" I say indignantly. "Perfection is not achieved overnight! Honestly, your expectations are _so_ unrealistic!"

Morgan promptly starts laughing, and I can't hold character and follow suit a moment later.

###

So there it is. The manor. The outer wall of the manor at least. As you might have expected, whoever owns the manor also owns a lot of surrounding land, so we can't actually see the manor proper from here. Nah is in there somewhere.

"I can't see over the wall." Morgan grumbles. Even sitting on my shoulders, the outer hedge is too tall for her. Strictly speaking it's the hedge that is blocking her view and not the wall itself, because the hedge is behind the wall, but that's just technicalities. "Maybe Noire could see?"

"She'd probably have to sit on your shoulders to _maybe_ be able to look over." I point out. "It might be better to find a tall tree to climb than to try and peek over the hedges like this."

"M-Maybe we can get a tour?" Noire suggests. "I-If we flatter the owner enough, he might be happy to show us around."

 _That_ is an interesting idea. I didn't expect that from Noire. Morgan seems to agree. "That might be something we can do! We do have some cute girls in our group… and Kjelle and Nathan. It would depend on how open the owner is though, or if we can even get in contact with him. How are your acting skills by the way? Can you do the shy, bashful type? Not the way you are usually, I mean shy, bashful, and _interested_. If you're standoffish it won't help."

"I-I can. I've done it before." Noire nods. I'm now slightly concerned about why she would have had to act that part before.

"And you." Morgan looks at Kjelle. "Can you restrain your battlelust for an hour or two if you have to?"

"I can." Kjelle says curtly. There's no hostility in her tone despite Morgan's slight jab. She's completely serious. "However I am needed, combat or otherwise, I will perform. For Nah's sake."

Thankfully Morgan is acute, so she picks up on Kjelle's attitude change, and the reason for it, and treats it with appropriate respect. "Cool. There's a chance, if we can somehow get a tour, that we'll have to leave weapons behind. If you can play the part of a knight aspirant, maybe we convince them to let you keep your lance."

"This is all theoretical at the moment?" Kjelle asks.

"Yeah." Morgan nods. "But it never hurts to run through ideas."

"In that case." Kjelle says. "There is a possibility that there are others who can give us the information we need. Thieves who have infiltrated successfully, bribable guards, or even a political, social, or business enemy who might be willing to give us some help."

"Also a good idea." Morgan nods. "Either way, we're going to have to do some asking around. We need info."

Getting info turns out to be more difficult than expected, and it also turns out that _Noire_ is our best way of getting it.

Asking around shops and the tavern (sorry "fine drink establishments", apparently "tavern" is too _common_ for the people of this town) we get absolutely no luck trying to find anything out. People raise their eyebrows at us, brush off our (made up) reasons for wanting information, and generally give me the impression that they either know we're bulshitting them or just don't want to talk with sketchy outsiders. I don't know if it's because we might look poor (I do at least) or just because we're from outside, but they stonewall any attempts we make to get information.

And then Noire says "l-let me try", walks up to a random merchant, and starts talking. I know the saying is cliche, but it really is like someone flipped a switch. Noire's entire demeanor shifts, and visibly so. Even the way she carries herself changes. She goes from hunching and shuffling to standing straight, holding her head high, and walking with confidence. She doesn't frown or glance around furtively, but stares her target directly in the eye and smiles warmly. When she starts talking with the merchant (we can't quite hear what's being said because there's too much other noise), he responds much more openly and calmly than people have been with us so far.

"What the heck?" Morgan whispers. She glances at Kjelle. "Did you know she could do that?"

"I did." Kjelle admits. "It's just as strange to me every time. Noire has always been good at putting on a front when she needs to, but she avoids doing it whenever she can."

Okay then. I guess Noire has some hidden depths. Gotta remember she's more than a game character. Still, I didn't figure she was capable of faking such confidence.

So, uh, anyhow… Noire is apparently good at getting information out of people. She simpers and smiles and laughs and brings her hand up to her chest in surprise and… it's really just _weird_ to see her do that. She's been shy the whole time, for literal months, and now _this_?

The merchant points Noire to somewhere and she smiles and thanks them before striding off in that direction. The rest of us follow at a safe distance. If Noire can handle this, we shouldn't get in the way.

So Noire goes around talking to people while the rest of us watch in surprise. Morgan is very unsubtly trying to listen in on Noire's conversations to moderate success. She actually takes out her notebook and starts scribbling down notes. I peer over her shoulder to see what she's writing… only to be reminded I can't read the language here. Right.

It's surprising how infrequently I need to read. It's infrequent enough that I often forget I'm effectively illiterate.

"I think it might have something to do with word choice." Morgan says, answering my unasked question. "And she's using very particular body language. Confident, but not aggressive. Curious, but in a way that doesn't seem intrusive. Notice how she _does_ take the shy role when talking despite confidence otherwise. One leg kicks the ground a bit or hooks around the other and all that, and she kinda turns her head away. Noire really knows how to make use of girlish charms. Who knew, huh?"

Morgan picked up all that from a few minutes of observation? Okay then. I just assumed it was working because Noire was less blatantly suspicious than the rest of us, and because she's a pretty face. That works too though.

Noire does her best, and when she eventually comes back to us she has this to say: "Apparently that manor belongs to someone called Sir Bernard Von Drachen. He's been here for nearly a decade. Apparently he's friendly, but doesn't get along with church-types."

That makes sense for a grimleal.

"And how can we get in contact with him?" Morgan questions. "Did you ask?"

Noire nods. "He actually runs the town's inn and shows up there often. It's not unusual for him to befriend travellers and invite them for a tour of the mansion."

"Well that's hella suspicious." I say. "Good find Noire."

"Yeah." Morgan agrees. "But, uh, you can stop with the act if you want."

Noire, who up until this point had still been standing tall and smiling, quickly hunches and her expression returns to her usual nervous one. "I-It's so uncomfortable doing that…"

Kjelle pats her on the back. "You did well."

This gives us an easy lead. Now we just need to find out how to make use of it.

"I think our plan has to involve befriending Bernard." Morgan says. "It's too easy a path not to use. The problem is that we don't know if we'll get _out_ of the manor in order to be able to use any scouting information we get. I think it's obvious that this whole 'befriending travellers' thing is a way for him to search for people to take. Even if it isn't, we don't know that and have to assume it is."

"So we need to scout anyway." Kjelle says. "And then make a plan around being able to get in via befriending Bernard."

"Exactly." Morgan says. "So we still might need a big tree."

"There is a chance…" I say. "That Bernard doesn't capture everyone who he invites, just the people that show potential. So if, say, _I_ were to befriend him and somehow get a tour first, it's unlikely he'd see anything useful in me and I'd return without issue."

"Too risky." Morgan says. "Besides, you're too suspicious. Your accent is all wrong, you use weird idioms and terms, and you know way too much about way too much. If you let anything suspicious slip, you might get in trouble."

"Ah, alright." I mumble. Of course my plan would suck. My suggestions have always been the least useful.

"If we had someone who could be not-suspicious we might be able to do that plan." Morgan acknowledges, "but as of right now that's not viable."

"Okay." I know Morgan doesn't intend it, but her comment really feels like she's rubbing in how poorly thought-out my plan was.

"We still have time today." Kjelle says. "We should find that tree if that's actually our plan."

"Okay then!" Morgan claps her hands. "Tree time!"

Bernards's estate has the main road on the west side (too many people for us to climb something) and some farms to the south (I guess it would be impractical to import _all_ their food. You want some stuff fresh after all) with too many farmers visible for us to feel comfortable climbing a tree, even if we're at a considerable distance. East, however, is forest.

Finding a suitably tall tree isn't exactly difficult, but it sure does take a long time to find one we can climb without being suspicious. Most of the trees are along a main path with people occasionally walking along it, so we obviously can't use those. There is a forest around the back of the estate, but that's problematic because the forest extends _into_ Bernard's land, and blocks our view.

"We might be able to sneak in that way." Morgan points out. "Those trees will hide us as well."

Morgan climbs a tree in the forest anyways to check if there are guards in the forest. She doesn't see anything, which is good news for us. We now know of a great entrance or exit point. Fleeing into the woods is a decent way to lose people. Probably. I'd have to ask Morgan.

The north side of the estate has more forest. In particular, there's a large river that dips into and out of the estate, and people are stopped from entering by large iron gates.

"Guards." Morgan says quietly as we walk closer, and she nudges us into walking further out. "Now _that's_ odd. Only the front entrance had guards before this. Why does this side and this side alone warrant guards otherwise?"

"M-Maybe it's easy for people to get in through the river?" Noire suggests.

"Well it's not exactly difficult to climb the fence elsewhere." Morgan notes. "Unless the fence is enchanted…"

That would be problematic. We'd have to find a different way to get in. "Maybe we can test it? Throw a rock or a stick at the fence and see if it burns up or gets zapped?"

"That's… not the kind of enchantment I was thinking of." Morgan mutters. "I was thinking of a force rebounder."

Kjelle and Noire both nod, and Kjelle speaks. "Those are fairly standard for anyone who has something to protect and enough money to spend on protecting it. If you throw something at a force rebounding wall, it's going to launch it right back at twice the speed. If you try to climb one, you'll get punted off when you try to grab it or plant your feet. Spells get rebounded too. If you want to get past a force rebounding wall you need to disenchant it, go straight over, use so much power that the enchantment doesn't have enough power of it's own to effectively reflect it, or have a magic "key" so-to-speak that lets you interact with it safely. I imagine the guards have one such item."

" _If_ the fence is enchanted." Noire mutters.

"Well we can still test." I say. "Just throw something at an angle so it bounces away, right?"

"I suppose that works." Kjelle shrugs. "Let's do that _after_ we scout though. There's a chance that Bernard has the fence enchanted to alert him if someone messes with it. If we're going to test the fence, we need to leave right after."

After we're sure the guards haven't noticed us, Morgan climbs another tree to peer over the hedges while the rest of us hide in the brush. When she climbs back down, she has this to say: "So... there's a building there. Looks sorta like a storage shed. It goes overtop of the river, totally covers it. There's also a secondary interior wall around just the shed with guards there too."

Okay, that's a dead-ringer for "suspicious as hell". It would probably show up in the dictionary under "suspicious". Do dictionaries exist in this world? If I remember correctly, dictionaries were a more modern creation.

"Interesting, but not our problem." Kjelle says. "It's not like Nah is going to be kept in the shed."

"So we know we need to get out through the east probably." Morgan says. "Where this river _isn't_. That will provide us cover as we run."

"We need to test the fence." I say. "So we know if we can climb it or not if we're going to get out."

"Right, right." Morgan nods. "Let's go back around to the east side where there aren't any guards."

We do so, and I'm given the "honor" or testing the fence. I find a random branch, pull back my arm, and launch the branch at the fence at an angle. The branch sails awkwardly through the air, and just when it looks like it's about to hit the fence it clashes with _something_ that flashes bright white and sends the branch smashing into the dirt where it snaps apart on impact.

"Yep, that's a force rebounder." Kjelle mutters. "We're going to need another way over the wall."

"Or a key." Morgan reminds her. "Let's leave for now. We don't know if they have an alert system or not."

###

We find the inn Bernard owns and, finding it to be surprisingly reasonably priced, check into it. I also spend nearly half an hour pestering Kjelle with questions about the force rebounder, and I learned that for military use it's actually not that helpful because you need a stupid amount of power to be able to reflect something like a catapult boulder, and strong enchantements generally can't be kept active by passive energy intake and need dedicated magic flows and that would be very costly to keep up.

Apparently enchantments have continuous power requirements, but minor enchantments can just pull from the general mana of the world around them to sustain themselves. If you want a powerful enchantment, or even something like a normal force rebounder, you need something extra. Either you need to feed the enchantment manually with your own power be it continuously or like charging a battery, or you need something else to do it for you like a dedicated mana gem or crystal.

Mana gems and crystals have two general categories. Containers, and generators. Mana containers are something you can deposit energy into and take it out again at a later date. Mana generators passively create mana (more so than normal anyways, as technically _everything_ passively generates mana) in a constant flow. Whether a certain crystal or gem is a generator or container tends to depend on exactly what sort of gem or crystal it is. In addition, almost any gem can be _turned into_ a mana container, even if it was a generator or simply not magic before, but mana generators are all only naturally occurring with no known way to create them. Also, just because certain types of gems can be mana generators or containers does not guarantee they will be. Rubies _can_ be containers, but not all rubies _are_ containers. Some are just rubies.

"Bernard is probably using a generator to power the force rebounder." Kjelle theorizes. "If he has enough money, he should be able to get a generator. They're rare, but not so rare as to be exclusive to only the military or royalty."

Long explanation short, mana containers and generators exist, force rebounders are (usually) anti-personnel defences due to energy economy, and the enchantment is likely powered by a mana generator.

"What acts as a key?" I ask. "You said something about a key that lets you interact with the gate safely?"

"It might not be a literal key." Kjelle says. "Badges, or some sign of employment, is usually enchanted to let the wearer bypass the force rebounder of their employer's estate. I could even be the uniform itself."

"Can you sense magic?" I ask Morgan. "If we take down a guard, can you figure out what's enchanted?"

"Definitely." Morgan nods. "Sensing mana is a super basic mage skill. Remember the resistance charm I gave you? That's how I knew you needed it. I can sense you have zero mana."

"Doesn't that just mean he isn't magic?" Noire mumbles. "It says nothing about his resistance."

"You know magic?" Morgan asks, surprised. "Well, yeah, technically you're right, but I've tested his resistance too"

"You have?" I blink. "How?"

"The shaving spell." Morgan says simply. "Using a spell on yourself bypasses your resistance, because your body doesn't recognize your own magic as something it needs to resist, and that means my resistance to my own spells is effectively nothing. Because I spend just as little power using the shaving spell on you as myself, I therefore know you have literally zero magic resistance or I'd have to use at least _some_ extra power."

"Oh." I never did ask how she knew I had no resistance. I guess that explains that.

"So anyhow." Morgan waves her hand to get our focus. "Tomorrow we need more info. What we got today was nice, but we don't want to be going in blind. We need to talk to a servant, or someone who's actually been _inside_ the manor before. We need some sort of idea of how the manor is laid out and where we should be looking for Nah. Having a vague escape path is nice and all, but we really need more."

"We can only get so intrusive before we make ourselves suspicious." Kjelle warns. "We will have to accept uncertainty at some point and take action regardless."

"No plan survives contact with the enemy." I chime in. "Not that having a plan isn't helpful, but…"

"I know, I know." Morgan says. "Are we going to go with the mercenary cover story again?"

"I don't see why not." Kjelle says. "Unless you have a different idea?"

"Well Morgan does look grimleal." I remind everyone. "We could try to concoct a plan with that. Actually, if she's going to wear her coat, it's going to be _necessary_ that we have an explanation for that I think."

"Fair point." Morgan frowns. "I don't like the idea of not having my coat though. I don't have anything else that can keep all my tools on me at once."

"It could be useful to be seen as grimleal." I suggest. "Maybe you can get Bernard to _show_ you to Nah."

"Maybe…" Morgan nods. "And the rest of you are my naive, unknowing companions who I've suckered into helping me."

"Or we're in on it." Kjelle suggests. "Hired help perhaps."

"And I'm here because Validar sent me to check on Bernard's process." Morgan muses. "Of course, there might be an issue if Bernard was acting alone and Validar isn't supposed to know."

"Doesn't mean Validar doesn't know." I remind her. "If Validar is a super strong sorcerer, it should be conceivable that he can scry on people. We don't _have_ to justify how Validar supposedly knows. Let Bernard be paranoid that his actions are being monitored."

"Good idea!" Morgan grins. "Gotta love mind games!"

"Indeed…" I'm going to trust that if Morgan likes the plan it must have some merit. I really have no frame of reference for what makes a good plan.

###

Our attempts to find more information the next day are mostly for naught. We can't ask questions that are too specific without looking sketchy, so we instead prepare for our infiltration. We practice our cover stories, dagger (as those might be the only weapons we can sneak in if for some reasons we aren't allowed to bring weapons, though Morgan should be able to hide a tome in her coat because her coat is _huge_ ) and hand-to-hand combat, and our search method (when in doubt, go down, because usually prisons are underground, and try to go wherever you see a lot of guards if you can find a way past them).

We're going to try and stick together because we're going to need the manpower. One person, even if that person is Kjelle in full armor, is going to get overwhelmed by enough guards and potentially an angry grimleal.

Morgan is extremely frustrated at the lack of a floor plan for us to reference, or at least a vague idea of how the manor is laid out. Not that I think we really ever had a chance of getting a floor plan. When you attack an enemy fort they don't just leave a drawing of the layout lying around for anyone to find.

There's one last thing I want to do before we try and get into the manor. I have no idea if it's going to work or not. It probably won't actually.

I remembered that Nah can talk to Naga directly. It's brought up in her support with… male Morgan I think. So I have an idea. Maybe not a good idea, but an idea. So if Nah can talk with Naga, is it possible I can get Naga to pass a message to Nah? I don't expect Naga to talk to me exactly, but I know she _does_ exist and can probably hear prayers, so it stands to reason that Naga might be able to hear me if I call to her. This goes especially if she was at all involved in me coming to this world.

So again, I'm not sure if she'll actually hear me, but it can't hurt to _try_ and pass a message to Nah, right?

That's how I find myself in a church. Everyone else is either back at the inn or shopping, I'm here alone. The church is mostly empty at the moment. I guess there's no service planned to happen soon…? I don't know how churches work and don't really care to. I was atheist back on Earth, and even here I really don't care to suck up to a deity (if any even exist in Awakening, because Naga and Grima aren't deities exactly). I'm at this church purely to try and pass a message, not to hear about the glory of Naga or whatever bullshit the priests try to sell people.

Well, okay, maybe it's not bullshit in this world. That was my cynicism talking. I just don't want to deal with religious stuff.

I don't even know if I'm _allowed_ to just walk into a church like this, but no one stopped me. There's a single priestess (cleric? Priestess? Are those interchangeable in this world?) who glanced my way when I stepped through the door, and she hasn't told me to leave yet so I _assume_ I'm allowed to be here.

I don't know what the protocol is for giving prayer though. Do I sit on a bench? Kneel near the podium/lectern thing at the front? Maybe near one of the statues of Naga at the side? Hell if I know!

I go with sitting on a bench in a corner, if just to be as unobtrusive as possible. I don't have a prayer bead or a bible or anything, so I have hope that closing my eyes and clasping my hands works.

I feel like an idiot even trying this, and I also feel vaguely annoyed that I'm giving prayer to anyone at all (well, more like asking a favor than giving prayer). I'm trying not to sneer at this whole situation because I don't want to be scorning Naga when I'm trying to get her to listen to me.

" _How does this work?_ " I muse while clasping my hands and closing my eyes. " _Oh great Naga…? No, that would be disingenuous. Maybe just be honest? Hey Naga! I want you to pass a message on to Nah! It would be nice if she could know we're coming, and that me and Morgan are friends because she has no idea who we are! If you could pass that on I'd appreciate it!_ "

As you might expect, I get no response. I have no idea if Naga heard me or not. Then again, even if she did hear me I don't think she'd exactly be eager to tell me that she heard. So far all my thoughts concerning Naga have been that she might have dragged me to this world and that I am maybe really mad at her.

I still intend on asking her about my situation if possible. If I have to wait for her to appear to everyone when Grima rises to yell at her, dammit I _will_. I don't care if she's a deity, or even if she had good intentions! If she brought me here I am going to chew her out!

Sitting in the church when it's all quiet is rather disconcerting. I can hear the priestess sweeping dust at the far end of the room thanks to the rounded roof helping with the acoustics of the building. I can't decide if this place is peaceful or creepy. It's obviously supposed to be the former, but the soft scratching of the broom is mildly distracting, the benches aren't actually all that comfortable, and the abundance of light shining through stained-glass windows is more irritating than it is comforting or awe-inspiring.

Of course, I'm predisposed to dislike churches and Naga, so I won't even pretend my feelings have any sort of objectivity to them.

" _How long should I stay here?_ " I ask myself. " _How does this work? Do I just repeat the request over and over? That's how praying works, right? Am I thinking too much about this? Do I only need to ask once?_ "

I guess I'd only know how much I need to repeat myself if I knew the mechanics of receiving prayer. Does Naga hear them all at once? Can she parse them? Does she hear them all the time or does she have to actively listen for them? Can she hear some prayers more strongly than others? If so, what factors influence that? Faith? Magic power? Personal connection like in Nah or Tiki's case? Cosmic importance, like being relevant to Grima's fall?

Hmm… I want to ask Naga how it works, but that would be a huge waste of her time. If I get a chance to talk to her I'm going to have to (maybe) chew her out and ask how to get home first, and then go with inane questions if she's not in a hurry.

" _I say that like someone who's functionally a deity isn't always going to be busy. Poor Naga._ " I muse. " _Stuck at her job with no vacation, and people always needing her help for petty and for serious reasons. It's like being a surgeon with an unending stream of operations to do._ _If you step away, even for a second, you're costing someone their life, but it's at the expense of having one of your own_."

At least, that's what I imagine it must be like. I don't actually know. She does apparently have time to spare to chat with Nah.

" _Maybe Naga split her consciousness? Can she focus on multiple things at once? Isn't she just a powerful manakete though? Or is she a dragon that turns into a person, rather than a person that turns into a dragon?_ " I think. " _Is that a distinction that exists? Are there true dragons? How much am I getting wrong?_ "

My knowledge on dragons is a bit shaky. I can't remember if there actually is a distinction between dragon and manakete besides taking a human form, because I vaguely remember something about dragonstones being sealing devices. What does that mean for Nah actually? Is her "true form" a dragon, or is her human form her true form? Was she born as a dragon? How does getting a dragonstone work?

Questions to ask Nah I suppose. You know, as long as she doesn't assume I'm creepy like Noire does and refuses to talk to me. That's a very distinct possibility in my mind.

" _I'm not even talking to Naga, I'm just having idle thoughts._ " I recognize. With that in mind, I decide to leave the church. I made an attempt to contact Naga and it was probably worthless, but that's over with now and I head back to the inn. We've been made aware that Bernard, if he does show up at all, comes by in the evenings to share food and drinks with guests.

We have to hope we can catch Bernard's attention if he does show up, and we're hoping that Morgan's coat will accomplish that for us. In our travels so far no one has really commented on the coat, but we've been in Ferox for the most part and they're probably not as paranoid about grimleal as Ylissians. There is the possibility that Morgan's coat isn't as obviously grimleal as I think it is, but considering both Kjelle and Noire seem to believe that it can pass as grimleal I must not be _too_ far off.

We strategically stretch out the time we spend having dinner at the inn to maximize the chance of running into Bernard. We slowly sip drinks for nearly an hour before even ordering food, and the first round of food we get are small appetizers to nibble on. By this point we're all pretty hungry, and we realize that not _all_ of us have to wait here just Morgan because of her coat, so Kjelle and Noire have their meals and leave me and Morgan to wait.

I suppose I could leave too, but that would make me a bad boyfriend if I left Morgan to sit in the dining room for hours while I did… probably nothing up in our room. Besides, as I've established before, Morgan _is_ my entertainment in this world. There is literally nothing else that holds my interest at the moment.

This leaves me and Morgan with an unspecified number of hours to burn with no guarantee that Bernard will even show up. With this in mind, I fetch chess and barrels from our room because we might be in for a long night.

I lose, as you probably expect. This is Morgan we're talking about. Me losing is a forgone conclusion. Yes, it's frustrating, but it's something to burn time and Morgan seems to enjoy trying to teach me.

"Nathan."

"Yeah?" I stare at the chessboard, fairly sure I'm losing this round in three-to-four turns.

"So, I know we're in a public space and all." She says. "But can I sit in your lap?"

"Uh…" I glance around. No one is really paying attention to us, and while this place is mildly upper class it still has a tavern vibe. I suppose it wouldn't be _too_ out of place? "Sure."

If I sound nervous, then Morgan doesn't comment. She eagerly gets out of her seat and slips onto my lap where. She promptly slumps against me and lets out a long breath, and when I tentatively wrap my arms around her she nuzzles against my shoulder.

"You're…" I trail off before saying anything. That was a weird response from her.

No, not weird. I'm just being stupid. After three seconds of thought I understand what's going on.

"Stressed?" I ask quietly, and tighten my grip.

"Just a little." She mutters. "We're waiting for someone who is quite probably a crazy kidnapper trying to help resurrect an ancient evil dragon, and _I'm_ responsible for convincing him to give us a tour."

Yeah, okay, fair enough. "You'll be fine. You're the best."

Morgan rolls her eyes. "I know."

"You probably have the most confidence I've ever seen in a human being." I say, and I'm being totally honest. Morgan's self-confidence and self-assuredness is absurd. "You have nothing to worry about. You're smart, you can apparently fake confidence because I didn't notice anything off until you sighed, and not to mention you're cute as fuck. You'll be fine."

"I know." Morgan repeats. "I just wanted to snuggle to make myself feel better." She tilts her head up to look at me. "And Nathan, I'm pretty sure you not noticing isn't a good indicator that I can fake something, because you're sort of oblivious."

"Fair." I mumble. Ouch, but fair. "Sorry."

"I'm not blaming you, just stating a fact." Morgan says. "You're bad at reading emotions, it's not a big deal."

She really shouldn't need to be comforting me when _she's_ the one who's stressed out. I seem to make everything about me by accident. "Yeah, sorry-"

"Nathan, stop apologizing."

"Uh, right." I fall silent for a moment. I'm really messing this up, aren't I? What do I do? "I- fuck, I'm _trying_ to find some way to comfort you but anytime I try something it just ends up with you reassuring _me_ about something."

"Oh." Morgan blinks. "Well… okay, yeah. I guess that did just happen. I'm used to seeing when you're nervous and trying to stop it, so I reassured _you_ on impulse."

"And I appreciate it." I say. "But c'mon, at least let me do _something_ here."

"You're giving hugs, that's something."

"So I'm a squeeze toy?" I question. "Or, well, someone who gives squeezes?"

Morgan quirks an eyebrow. I guess she's never heard that term before. "Not _just_ that, but I only really needed a hug this time around. It's not like I'm outright panicked or anything."

The "not like you usually are" is implied but unsaid. Am I blowing this out of proportion again? I really can't do this relationship thing…

"I'm really not helping, am I?" Morgan says quietly.

"I- no." I say honestly. "Unless it's me who's not helping."

"What?"

"Well, you have to keep reassuring me about things-"

"We just went over that!"

"And you just did it again by explaining you only needed a hug."

"I did?" Morgan frowns. "Oh, I guess I did. But you were asking if I only cared about hugs and not anything else from you."

"That… that's also true." I groan. "Ahhh…"

"Okay, there's _something_ we're not getting across." Morgan frowns. "This sort-of sort-of not argument is confusing me now. So you know what? Just talk, and I'll stay quiet for a bit. I keep cutting you off. I'll talk after."

Okay, okay, gotta try and explain this. How do I explain this? Is it just me being weird? I'm second-guessing myself. What do I do? What do I say? How do I say it? Fuck, fuck, fuck. What do I do?

"Okay, I said I wouldn't talk, but please don't panic." Morgan says quickly. Her hands come up to find my face, warm and comforting. "I- I'm _sorry_ if it's something I said, really! Just talk! Please? I'm not trying to freak you out here!"

I force myself to take a breath. Maybe before there might have been some mutual miscommunication, but now it is _certainly_ me making things worse because I made myself panic. I also better stop thinking about this because I'm going to go down the guilt spiral at this rate and make things even worse. Stop blowing things out of proportion Nathan. "I… feel like I can't do anything for you. At all. Like, in this case, _you_ are the one who's worried, and I try to say something to help, and it ends up with you reassuring _me_. And also just in general I feel like I'm doing nothing. I'm always the one panicking, and you're always the one reassuring, and I always confide in you because I always have something I need to get off my chest and you're just happy-go-lucky most of the time because you have confidence through the roof for some reason. I always feel like I'm messing up our conversations too. You always need to tell me to stop doing something because I'm fucking something up. Even now I feel like I'm messing something up, like I'm being whiny and petty. I… I don't know how to explain it beyond that. You've been babysitting me the entire time we've known each other, and I'm acutely aware of it."

Morgan waits a few seconds, checking to see if I'm going to continue, then takes her turn. "Okay… uh… right. Not what I expected. I was expecting something along the lines of "you keep telling me what to do and interrupting me!" or "you keep belittling me!" I wasn't expecting you to be thinking you weren't doing anything."

I'm sorely tempted to explain more, but I need to let her talk like she let me talk.

"So, I actually have a question before I go on." Morgan says. "Because I'm starting to suspect something. When you say sorry, is it always because you think you've done something wrong?"

"Not… necessarily." I say. "Sometimes, yes, but I'd also apologize if I bumped into someone, or if they bumped into me. It's just a politeness thing. If something goes wrong for any reason, say sorry, even if it's not your fault."

"Okay." Morgan rubs her forehead. "Because one of the things I've been paying attention to is when you apologize because you do it so often, and I assumed it was because you thought you had done something wrong, so whenever you apologized without a good reason I made sure to stop you because I assumed you were catastrophizing again. Also, remember that I said I'd take care of you? I take that seriously you know! Uh, and maybe I've been overbearing a bit because of it?"

"Not really." I mutter.

"Shush! I'm not done!" Morgan pouts. "So, anyhow, I've really been focusing on _you_ , because as I've mentioned before I'm really not all that worried about my general situation. I'm not a naturally nervous person I guess. So because I can ignore my problems pretty easily, I focus on helping you, because you're cute, and nice, and I like you, and you panic every once in a while and it's fine because I like you and so I feel good helping you. I never really considered that you might have thought you weren't doing anything, because you're sort of the one doing more than I am on an everyday basis you know?"

"What?" I frown. _That_ doesn't sound right. "I call bullshit."

"Then I call counter bullshit." Morgan huffs. "Need I remind you who the one is who carries me around all the time? Or who doesn't mind spending hours explaining things or singing just to entertain me? Or who will accompany me no matter what I'm doing just because they want to be around me? And did you think I didn't notice your obvious adoration? You're not exactly subtle Nathan!"

"I suppose." I guess that's correct? But all of those things are also out of self-interest. It's not nearly as benevolent as Morgan makes it sound. I do that to keep myself entertained as well. At the same time… "This was a stupid arguement wasn't it?"

"Just a little." Morgan nods. "It was only because you felt useless and I was still trying to control our interactions despite more-or less asking for reassurance."

"I guess you're always in control so it's weird when I try to take the lead."

"Basically." Morgan agrees. "I remember back when we met _you_ were in charge and I was following. Strange that the opposite is so normal now, huh?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Though it feels a lot more comfortable when you're in charge. I feel like you actually know what you're doing most of the time."

"I only sorta do." Morgan shrugs. "Honestly, sometimes I don't know if my ideas are good or not, but I know for sure it's better to have a plan and stick to it than to have no plan, regardless of what that plan is. And when it comes to leadership, sheer confidence goes a long way in reassuring other people."

"Ahh…"

"But anyhow, I'll try and remember to actually let you reassure me." Morgan says with a smile, probably realizing how weird that sentence sounds. "Kinda rude of me to ask for reassurance then immediately shut you down."

"That's not _exactly_ what happened." I mutter. "You thought I was guilt spiraling."

"Details." Morgan waves it off.

I poke her in the cheek. "Hey, don't just shrug off my mistakes. I did make some."

"Okay, fine, can we stop this argument now?" Morgan says.

"Oh, uh, sure." I say. Did that even count as an argument? It wasn't really an argument was it? More like a miscommunication. We never got _angry_ at each other so I don't think it counts as an argument. Whatever. That's not something that's important at the moment.

"Also, maybe we should get food, because I'm really starting to get hungry now." Morgan says. She slides out of my lap and goes back to her chair, though she drags it around the table to be closer to me. "I'm not sure Bernard is going to show up."

"Gotcha."

I don't know if we're lucky or unlucky. About half an hour later when we're just finishing our food, when we notice a man wearing a high-collared dark crimson vest over a deep purple shirt. It looks remarkably like a suit you'd see back on Earth, though with different colours. His pants aren't dress pants though. They're dark grey with crimson lines down the legs and quite baggy. They're actually like Morgan's pants, just a different colour. The guy looks somewhat old with short, well-kept silver-white hair and a wrinkled but kindly face. He's medium height, very thin, and doesn't doesn't seem to be particularly muscular or obviously weak one way or another. He's actually kind of generic besides his clothes.

I say we may be lucky or unlucky to notice him because he's very obviously Bernard. He's going around talking to guests, so either he's randomly chatty, he's a host, or he owns the place.

It's obviously the last one.

"You see him too?" Morgan murmurs to me. She appears to be focusing on her food, but is actually tracking the man from the corner of her eye as he moves around the room. "Ready?"

"I-I guess." I say. "Remember, we don't know if he's grimleal for sure-"

"I know Nathan. I'll do some probing." Morgan reassures. "Leave it to me. All you have to do is look cute."

Very funny Morgan. I don't comment though. Bernard is coming to our table, there's no more time for banter. It's showtime… for Morgan.

"Greetings travellers." The man says when he stops next to our table. "Have you been enjoying the town? Have your other companions already retired? I was hoping to be able to speak with them as well."

I'm sorry, what? He knows that we have other companions? He did research on us apparently, or got info from the guest list. Very interesting, and slightly worrying.

"The town has been… tolerable." Morgan says. She's relaxed back into her seat with her head tilted up so she's basically looking down her nose at him. Her expression is convincingly bored and indifferent. "We are here on business you see."

"Oh?" The man quirks an eyebrow. "But I've been rude, I suppose I should introduce myself first." He extends a hand to Morgan. "I am Bernard Von Drachen. I run Ylisse's only dark magic academy, and am a prominent supplier of rare ritual components for powerful mages. Diamond dust, mana gems, that sort of thing."

"I'm Morgan." Morgan says flatly. "He's Nathan. We're here to retrieve something valuable for our master, and I do believe _you_ are in possession of that thing."

"Oh?" Bernard straightens himself a bit. "Really now? I was not expecting anyone of your description, though I am quite busy so it is possible I forgot. Remind me what it is you are trying to obtain?"

Morgan goes right for the throat, metaphorically. "We're here for the manakete."

Morgan, I thought you said you were going to do some probing. What happened to that? Unless this is supposed to be probing somehow.

"A manakete?" The man says. His response is suitably surprised, though his eyes now carefully scan Morgan and noticeably settle on the eye patterns on her sleeves for a few moments. "Are you quite sure you have the right person? If something has happened to the Voice-"

"He won't appreciate you playing dumb, Bernard." Morgan cuts him off, speaking in a calm, even tone. "He is not a patient man."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Bernard says a bit more harshly. "Who is "he"?"

"Come now." I say. I rest one arm on the table and use my knuckles to prop my head up. "Surely you did not think he would not take interest in you having obtained a member of the divine dragon tribe. It is _quite_ the find after all."

Bernard is trying to keep up his calm appearance, but I know he's not quite calm. His body language gives him away. Whereas before his arms were calmly resting on the table when he spoke, now one is tensely pulled against his body with fingers pulled into something like a fist, and the other is gripping the first hand's wrist. That's self-hugging right there, albeit subtly, and it's a sign of feeling nervous and needing to comfort yourself. I imagine he feels like he's being put on the spot, which he is, but if we were throwing baseless accusations you'd expect him to be indignant considering his position of power, not defensive. "As I said already, I know nothing about the discovery of a divine dragon."

Morgan speaks again. "Do you not? Was it one of your underlings? My, that's such a shame. He seemed quite delighted that you had managed to find a divine dragon. I suppose his praise will have to go to one of them then."

That's a devious move Morgan. She's using the carrot and the stick approach. A threat of not wanting to disappoint Validar, and the potential promise of earning good standing if Bernard cooperates. Very clever. I suppose I somewhat helped facilitate that too by mentioning that it was an achievement to find a manakete. Yay, I helped!

That sounds _so_ childish of me…

"Now just a second." Bernard says. He straightens his vest and holds his head high. I suppose he's also given up on pretending he doesn't know about Nah. "I admittedly never saw the girl transform, but now that I give it some thought I did find some girl with some unusual qualities. Pointed ears, a magical stone, that sort of thing. I had been meaning to look into her odd qualities at a later date, but I suppose she fits the description of a manakete."

That's the most flimsy excuse I've ever heard, but I guess it doesn't have to be good. We're at the point where we both know the other party is in on the whole grimleal thing, so elegant social maneuvering is less necessary.

"The poor dear must have gotten terribly lost." Morgan says, which indirectly reminds us that we're in a public place and can't talk about sensitive grimleal matters in plain terms. Even Bernard seems to have forgotten, because he quickly glances at the other tables around us. Thankfully no one is really paying attention to us. "He would be _so_ happy to help her find her way back home and have a chance to talk with her. He's quite interested in manaketes, as you know." Morgan pauses, then says. "You _did_ know, correct?"

"I was aware." Bernard says indignantly.

"That begs the question why you did not send her to him earlier then." Morgan says with a faint sneer on her face. "But I suppose the mistake can be forgiven. We shall come to retrieve her tomorrow. Please have her ready by lunch."

"Now hold on, I still have some tests I want to conduct." Bernard says in a lower tone so others can't hear. "I have been meaning to extract some blood from her, if you can just give me a few days-"

"Validar is not patient." Morgan snaps, and finally name drops the person we've been vaguely referring to this entire time. "If you want some blood samples, you can request them from him _after_ the manakete has been delivered. He will look more favourably upon your request _if there are no delays_."

"I- fine." Bernard snarls. He's not even being subtle anymore. "I will have her prepared. Arrive at noon, sharp, no later. I am a busy man."

"Do not think-" I add "-you can get away with trying to rush a blood extraction tonight, von Drachen. We need the manakete in good health. The next few weeks will not be kind to her."

Bernard's fists curl, and I'm glad I shoved that in there. It only occurred to me at the last moment that the time pressure might make him feel inclined to get what he wants _now_ , before we take her away. It's good that I shut that down even if it doesn't endear us to him.

Bernard leaves us soon after that. He strides right out of the room without talking to anyone else.

"I hope Nah is going to be okay." I mumble once I feel safe again. "He still might try something."

"We can't do anything about it." Morgan says. "Besides, this is better overall. If we can avoid a fight, that's good." Even though she says this, she's still frowning.

"It doesn't sit right with you either, does it?"

"Yeah, it really doesn't." She admits. "I wish we could rush in there and help her, but that would be suicide."

"I'm worried we've just given him time to prepare. We literally told him when we were coming." I mutter. "This could still go bad."

"It could." Morgan agrees. "But be confident. He'll probably try and accuse us of something tomorrow, or make a power play to try and keep Nah. We need to stay calm, remind him that we come from Validar and Validar is scary, and keep acting like we know he won't _dare_ hurt us because of Validar. Confidence is everything here."

"Got it." I take a deep breath in, and let it out. "Sorry for butting in by the way, I figured you were being a bit too confrontational and thought a lighter approach _in addition_ to yours might help."

"And it was probably a good idea." Morgan muses. "I was thinking that Grimleal were all hardcore, right? So any sort of kindness or consideration would be out of place and I needed to be tough and unforgiving."

"You might be right." I shrug. "I really don't know their inner workings. It was a gamble for me to do that in retrospect."

"Ah, not really." Morgan waves it off. "I had a plan in case you said something wrong."

"You did?"

"Well sure. I look grimleal and you don't, right? If you said something too off, I could claim you were a favored servant or something. I could pretend to be some rich, bratty girl who dragged her unqualified servant around."

"Wouldn't that seem unrealistic?"

"Probably not. As long as I seemed dangerous it wouldn't matter what you said all that much." Morgan explains. "Because if I make myself look important enough or strong enough, it doesn't matter how eccentric I look because I have some reason to be able to get away with it. So it was fine. I planned for that."

"Sometimes you're scarily good, you know that?"

"I know." Morgan says. "Just a side-effect of how awesome I am."

###

I dearly, desperately want this to go well. I'm antsy all day as we prepare to go pick up Nah. I hope nothing happened to her last night, I hope Bernard won't be problematic, I hope we don't have to make use of our knowledge of the forest out back and knocking out a guard so we can get a key to deal with the force rebounder. That's the backup plan. The backup plan to the backup plan is to climb a tree and hop the fence that way, because there _has_ to be a tree near the fence we can climb over in the forest section.

Morgan apparently has some additional plans if those don't work, like using her wind magic and my axe to fell a tree onto the fence and pray it's enough to surpass the rebounder to create a path for us.

Hopefully it won't come to that, of course. If all goes well our preparation will be useless and we'll walk out of this town with Nah within the hour.

I mean, let's be honest, the chance of that actually happening is super low. Someone is going to get stabbed, and I hope it's not me.

Our group marches straight up to the front gate of Bernard's estate. Bernard is there, and it looks like he has several guards with him as well as what… I'm fairly sure… oh shit…

"Risen." Kjelle mutters. Her eyes flick from the guards to Bernard to the Risen, assessing all their weapons and armor. "Silver weapons. This is not a fight we'll win easily."

At least she thinks we'll win. I'm not so confident. I don't see Nah, and that's a bad sign.

"Bernard." Morgan calls when we arrive at the gate. The gate is open, leaving less than a dozen meters between us and Bernard's twenty guards and Risen. "Do you have the manakete ready as I asked?"

"I do." Bernard says. He's much calmer than yesterday, probably because he's surrounded by guards. He even looks haughty.

"Then bring her out." Morgan demands. "As you said, you are busy, and I would rather return to Validar sooner than later."

"Would you now?" Bernard crosses his arms. "Because something interesting happened last night."

"Do tell." Morgan says. She tilts up her head to stare down her nose at him. "But make it quick."

"I spoke with Validar to verify your mission." Bernard says. "And he gave you no such order. You simply want my manakete."

Okay, interesting. First of all, he's totally lying to us. He said "he gave you no such order" implying that Validar actually knows who we are at all and that we're actually grimleal. Validar doesn't know us, and we're not grimleal at all. So Bernard here is lying to our face, probably because he thinks we _are_ grimleal like him, but that we're acting out of self-interest.

This also means, if Morgan noticed (which, because I'm an idiot and if I noticed it she absolutely has) she can bullshit her way through this because Bernard doesn't actually know we're not grimleal, he's trying to test us.

"Oh really now?" Morgan says. She smiles thinly and, to _everyone's_ surprise, walks forward into the group of guards and risen. The guards hastily point their weapons at her, and Morgan brushes them aside with her hand without a single trace of fear. She marches right up to a startled Bernard Von Drachen, grabs him by the collar, and pulls his face down to her level. Surrounded by Risen and guards who could kill her at any moment, Morgan doesn't spare them a glance while saying: "Cut the bullshit Drachen. Give us the manakete. Validar is not known for his patience, and I've lost mine. I better see that manakete up here in five minutes, dragonstone and all, or you'll lose your petty life here and your freedom to experiment. A single specimen is _not_ an unmanageable request." She released the shocked man, and shoves him back. "Five minutes starts now."

"I-" Bernard sputters. "You cannot-!"

"I'm _waiting_." Morgan interrupts with an icy tone. She doesn't even bother to move away from the guards and the risen after her little demonstration. She waits right there in the middle of them, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

So, after what can only be called a power move, Bernard goes scrambling back into his manor. He shouts some bluster back at us, trying to salvage his dignity, but he's lost. He has well and truly lost.

It actually takes about seven minutes for Bernard to fetch Nah, and he _does_ fetch Nah. When he comes walking through the front door again, he's pushing a manacled Nah in front of him.

Nah, surprisingly, doesn't look any worse for wear. She's scoffing and holding her head high despite her situation. If I had to take a bet on what imprisoned royalty would look like, Nah is it. Haughty, indignant, not at all afraid, and with a nice-looking dress.

I still say she looks like a doll though, mostly due to that dress. She looked like a doll in the game art, and she does in reality.

Bernard brings Nah to Morgan, and Morgan grabs the girl by the shoulder with one hand and extends the other. "Dragonstone."

With a snarl, Bernard roughly pulls the stone from his pocket and all but slams it into Morgan's hand. Morgan smiles with unrestrained smugness.

"Thank you for your cooperation." She says mockingly, then turns and leads Nah back to our group.

Nah apparently knows better than to show excitement at the moment, because she keeps her expression as an indignant sneer as she approaches. Kjelle also keeps her expression schooled, though Noire is noticeably twitchy now that Nah is in reach.

Morgan leads us away from the manor, keeping Nah out in front. Five steps, ten steps, twenty steps. I force myself not to look back at the gateway. We're actually going to get away with this somehow. I can't believe we're actually getting away with this. What the fuck. Our deception actually worked? We didn't have to kill a guard and take his stuff? We didn't have to escape into the forest? We don't have to deal with the force rebounder? What miracle is this?

I'd say praise Naga, except this was all Morgan. Good job Morgan!

As soon as we're out of eyesight of the manor, Noire hastily pulls out a lockpick from her pocket (which I didn't know she had, though since her father is Gaius maybe that's not a surprise) and gets the manacles off Nah. Nah lets out a long, shaky breath, and properly meets our eyes for the first time.

"Nah." Kjelle says simply.

"Kjelle." Nah nods tiredly. "Noire."

"Nah." Noire sniffles. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine." Nah reassures. "That jerk wasn't very happy last night, but he didn't do anything to me. He kept telling me I was in so much trouble and that I should be begging to stay with him rather than go with you."

"I mean, we _are_ kinda scary." Morgan brags. She passes the dragonstone to Nah. "Bernard was quaking in his boots! I'm Morgan by the way."

"Nice to meet you." Nah says politely. She then turns to me. "You're Nathan, right?"

"I- uh- yeah." How does she know that? "Hi."

Then Nah promptly drops a bomb on me. "Naga wants to talk with you."

"What?" Kjelle asks sharply. "I'm sorry, Naga wants to talk to _him_?"

"Yes." Nah says simply. "He's the outworlder, right?"

"So that's the term?" I mutter. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

"Naga said she needed to clear some things up with you." Nah said. "She would have done a dream talk already, but apparently you have no magic signature so she can't connect to you at all."

"Ah." So apparently my lack of magic and resistance is going to be a recurring problem. Not only do I have zero resistance, but I can't be located by magic because I have no "signature". "I hope that can be changed. I'd much rather be able to be found if I'm in trouble…"

Morgan takes out her notebook and scribbles something down.

"Anyhow." Nah says. She hands her dragonstone to me, and I handle it with great care. "Hold this while you sleep. It will serve as a conduit for Naga."

"Okay." I squeak. "And you're okay with me holding on this for the day?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Nah questions. "You just saved me, right? It's not like you aren't trustworthy."

Fair point. "How did you know about me anyways? How does _Naga_ know about me?"

"Well I know about you two-" Nah points to me and Morgan "-from Naga, and I can't speak for her. All I know is that she said you were an outworlder and that you know a lot about this world and about the Shepherds."

"Very true." I nod.

"And me?" Morgan asks eagerly. "Naga mentioned me?"

"Yeah. She didn't have much to say about you though except that you were with him." Nah shrugs. "Naga was more concerned with Nathan for some reason."

"She was probably intimidated by my awesomeness." Morgan decides.

"You are pretty awesome." I agree. "You just bullied a grimleal!"

"Fuck yes I did!" Morgan says proudly. "More compliments!"

"You're so smart, and cute, and powerful." I list, and ruffle her hair. "And very scary."

"Woo!" Morgan sticks her fists up in the air. "Scary Morgan!"

Nah glances towards the other girls and points to me and Morgan. Kjelle sighs. "Yes, that's normal."

"You get used to it…" Noire adds with an air of resignation.

"Welcome to the team!" Morgan says cheerfully, and throws an arm around Nah's shoulders. "You're absolutely going to regret it!"

"Great." Nah says flatly. "By the way, I'm really tired, so can we get back to your inn so I can sleep?"

"We actually have to leave town immediately." Morgan says apologetically. "Bernard owns the inn, and he's not going to be happy with us if he learns we lied to him. We need distance."

"I-If you want to rest…" I say hesitantly. Is this going to sound too forward? Everyone but Morgan thinks I'm weird already, what's one more distrustful girl to the list? "I don't mind giving you a ride. Morgan piggybacks all the time, so I'm used to it if you want to sleep as we move."

Nah stares at me for a solid two seconds, and I fidget uncomfortably. I _was_ too forward. It was a bad idea to offer. Of course it was. I can never do anything right when it comes to talking to people. "Honestly… yeah, thanks. I'm not going to be able to march today."

"Oh." Uh. Okay. She's fine with it. That's unexpected. That's good. I kneel down a bit so she can climb on my back. "Here you go."

Nah is noticeably lighter than Morgan, though I don't know how much of that is because Morgan carries four heavy books in her coat and who-knows-how-much miscellaneous junk. I carefully adjust her so I don't feel like she's going to fall off.

"Good?"

"Fine." Nah says. She already sounds exhausted, and lets out a deep, long breath near my ear. "Don't talk to me for the next hour or two please…"

"Okay." I whisper. "Sleep well."

Nah mumbles something incomprehensible in response.

"She's cute." Morgan says after a few seconds, when Nah has closed her eyes. "I think she's going to be a lot of fun."

"She can still hear you." I scold. "Shush Morgan."

"Fine…"

###

There's a subdued sense of urgency in our march after we retrieve our things from the inn. We don't even stop to buy Nah some new things and get the hell out of town.

Incidentally, Nah has her ring. Or, well, her mother's ring. It only occurred to me as we were leaving that we never checked if Bernard took it from her, but she mumbled back that yes, she still has it. I guess Bernard wasn't interested in it.

Also, I'm low-key panicking even more than I was earlier, because now I am scheduled for a meeting with Naga tonight. Naga. You know, the dragon sorta-goddess. On one hand, I just got my opportunity to yell at Naga. On the other hand, I'm not sure if I'm going to have the confidence to yell at Naga or if I even have a good reason to. I haven't confirmed if she's responsible for my situation or not.

Then again, she apparently knows about me, so that might be a sign she was somehow involved with this whole ordeal.

" _Focus on something else. Literally anything else._ " I tell myself. All of us are trying not to talk at the moment so Nah can sleep, so distraction is actually a tall order here. My talk with Naga at night could very well decide my future. It could decide if I should even be spending effort to get home, or if it's even possible, or if there's some other reason I can't go home.

I might be stuck here. _I might be stuck here_. That's a very real possibility. It was before, but I could push it to the back of my mind because it wasn't an immediate issue. I barely had a plan for my life when I lived on Earth, and was already kind of useless there. What am I going to do in this world? I have some vague ideas of selling board games, but I've never run a business, I don't know if I have enough skill to be able to make board games to even a vaguely acceptable level of quality. I also won't have my family as a support network. In this world I literally just have Morgan, and that's assuming she won't get tired of me at some point.

" _Don't think so negatively_." I scold myself. " _Morgan has made it clear she's fine with you, don't catastrophize._ "

With Morgan's help I imagine I can get by, but I'm not exactly looking forward to it. I just hope I don't end up being a burden to whatever Morgan's life plans are, because the only thing I'd hate more than the difficulty of creating a new life is being a burden on someone else's. I'm also acting under the assumption that my relationship with Morgan is going to progress to the extent that we'll be living together, which is _not at all_ a certainty.

I hope it does though, if I'm stuck here. I like Morgan. I've never had someone who I'm so eager to spend time with, but also makes me so incredibly nervous whenever she makes a lewd joke or teases me. Half my life in this world has been Morgan _._ Talking with Morgan, confiding in her, playing with her. My life revolves around her right now, and that's terrifying to consider.

" _Please wake up soon Nah. I don't want to be stuck in my own thoughts for any longer._ "

###

I don't know if night time comes too quickly or not quickly enough. There's some talking around the campfire at night with Nah being awake. Kjelle and Noire and Morgan have plenty of questions to ask, but I'm too distracted to pay much attention. I do end up hearing that Nah was locked up in that manor for about three months, and that she'd been wandering the island for almost five months before that and surviving by charity and theft (usually by snagging livestock in her dragon form).

The one other question that grabs my attention is from Morgan, and isn't about Nah but about what she knows. "Hey Nah?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know Olivia?"

"Inigo's mom? Not that well. We only talked once or twice."

"Who's she married too?" Morgan asks intensely. "Inigo's father?"

Nah thinks for a moment. "I think it was someone called Robin? A tactician if I remember correctly."

"Right." Morgan's grin could not be wider if she tried. She sits back and leans against me with unbridled happiness. "Right."

"What?" Nah asks, now wary. "What's so funny?"

"Not funny." Morgan says. "I finally know who my mother is. I knew my father was Robin, but not who my mother was because of my amnesia."

"Oh." Nah blinks. "I never heard of Inigo having a sister…"

"Weird, but not my problem." Morgan hums. "I know who my mother is~! I have a brother~!" She turns to me. "Nathan! Your predictions were right! Tell me about Mom and Inigo! I already know but I want to hear it again!"

You're very excited, aren't you Morgan? I suppose she has good reason to be excited though. I'd be excited too to find out who my mother was if I had no idea. "Well, your mother is a skilled dancer…"

I do my very best to describe Olivia and Inigo, and despite me only offering bare-bones descriptions Morgan eagerly listens, knowing that she's hearing about the people that are definitively her family.

I finish my explanation by saying: "Inigo might know who you are. I'm not sure why no one else would know who you are if he supposedly does, so that might be a difference between this world and the game that he _doesn't_ know, but there is a chance he will."

"I hope he does. I want to know what I was like." Morgan says. "Ooh, I can't wait to mess with him!"

"Wait." Nah says, looking confused. "What game are you talking about?"

I quickly catch her up on my situation. Considering she already knew I was an outworlder beforehand, she's not nearly as weirded-out by what I tell her. "Oh, that's cool."

"Isn't it?" Morgan says eagerly. "You _have_ to hear some of the songs from his world! They're ridiculous!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Nah says slowly. "For later."

We're about to go to sleep, and I am hella worried. I'm going to talk to Naga. _Naga_. This is going to go terrible. I'm terrible at talking to people to begin with, and now I have to talk to Naga? This is bad. This is very bad.

Thankfully Morgan is observant, and more than willing to provide comfort. She lies down before I do, says "head here" and pats her chest (or where it would be on her bedroll). I tentatively lay my head down on that spot and Morgan wraps her arms around it.

"It'll be fine." Morgan murmurs while running her fingers through my hair. "If you can go home, great, if you can't, you've got me."

"Right." I say, my voice hoarse. "Right."

And that's how I fall asleep, desperately hoping that this nighttime talk will go well.

###

Apparently Naga's dreamscape talk looks like the living room of my house. I'm sitting in one of the big chairs and, looking extremely out of place in such a modern setting, Naga sits across from me on the couch.

Naga is tall. _Really_ tall. I think she's almost as tall as Mariana, and that was seven feet let me remind you! Her outfit is exactly the same as in the game as well. I was honestly expecting something less skimpy, but hey, if she likes it then I'm not going to tell her no.

"Eric." She says as a greeting. "Or, I suppose you are going as Nathan now, aren't you?"

I am." I say. I feel oddly calm at the moment. I was worried not that long ago. How strange. "I thought you couldn't locate me, how do you know that?"

"Through Morgan." Naga says. "She does not pray often, and when she does it is not intended that I hear, but so long as I am addressed I can hear, and I have been listening for your companions specifically."

So Morgan occasionally mentions me in prayers. Probably "Naga help Nathan not be an idiot" or something. I guess sarcastic comments still count as prayers for the purposes of Naga hearing. Interesting. "How does prayer work anyways? Do you hear every little comment, is it all at once?"

"Perhaps we should focus on more important matters?" Naga suggests gently. "I have limited power, and with Grima in our future I cannot afford to contact you again before his fall."

That implies she might talk to me afterwards. Though considering how unnecessary my questions just were I highly doubt that. "Right, uh, but first. Can I get home? Before Grima, after Grima, whatever. Can I get home?" That question isn't important to killing Grima, but there's no way I'm going to let this slide. "And are you responsible?"

"I suppose this question was inevitable." She murmurs. "Yes, I am responsible, yes, you can get home, but I would not recommend it seeing as you are dead in your world and explaining your new life and second body would be quite a hassle."

"I- what?"

"You died." Naga says softly. "By what your world would call a heart attack."

"A heart attack?" I whisper in disbelief. "I… but…"

"I know not the exact circumstances." Naga murmurs. "However, I was searching for recently deceased souls who could be of use to my world, knowing that my world took the form of games and books in worlds beyond the outrealms. You were the first to fit my criteria, and I did not have the power to waste searching for more."

"I assume you mean that I know enough about the game to predict future events." I say.

"Precisely."

So I _died_ , Naga found my soul and knew I was knowledgeable about Awakening, and with her not being willing to waste power searching for others she took me to help this world.

Not only did I die for basically no reason, but the only reason I'm here is because Naga basically had no other choice. She basically stuck her magic hand into a bin and grabbed the first vaguely useful thing she could find, regardless of quality, and that thing is me.

"Why is my body different?" I ask next. I can process what that means for me later. Naga is using limited time here. I need to get the important questions out of the way.

"You needed something useful to help you survive, and you were unwilling to accept a magic item." Naga says. "I do believe you were hysterical at the time, but I complied with your wish and was forced to come up with a different solution to your frailty."

Great. So my body is my fault. Wonderful.

"It can be fixed. Speak with Miriel." Naga reassures. "With the childrens' protection, you need not your new body."

That's good. Okay, that's one positive thing. "Right, okay. Sorry. I had to get those out of the way. What did you want to talk about?"

"That _was_ what I wanted to talk about." Naga says. "I owe you answers for seemingly ripping you from your world. In recreating your brain and placing your soul back in it, your memory was returned to what it was before we spoke the first time."

So we've talked before, and I was hysterical. Probably because I _died_. "You could have talked to me through Nah instead. You didn't have to waste your power on this."

"It is my choice for what I will use my power, and this was a private matter." Naga murmurs. "I have enough power for what I must do later, do not be concerned."

"Okay." I mumble. It's weird to consider that Naga is wasting some of her valuable power just to bring me peace of mind. It's not that I don't appreciate it, but it really does seem like a pointless use of her power. A somewhat-goddess used her mighty divine power to… help me with my insecurities.

Well, okay, she explained why the heck I was here and gave extremely vital information for the course of my life, so perhaps it's a bit less useless than I'm making it out to be, but she still used her limited power when there's an evil artificial dragon in our future just to talk to _me_. I'm not sure if I feel honored or if I feel horrible for being such an anxiety-ridden mess that Naga herself has to sort me out.

"You would do well to accept that the decisions of others do not always center on your actions." Naga murmurs, and rises from her seat. "This conversation would have happened regardless of your actions. It was my feeling of duty that led to this, not anything to do with you."

Right. So I'm a moron again. Great.

"I must be going." She murmurs. "I will leave you with this dream, however, if you wish to wander your hometown. When you wish to wake, enter the cabinet under your stairs. Either that, or wait until you wait up naturally."

With that, Naga rises from her seat and strides out of the room and out the door. I can't see her walking down the driveway after that so she must have vanished, and I'm left with a dream world of my home town.

I could probably spend time thinking about the conversation we just had, but I'm not going to waste this opportunity. I thought I'd never be able to see home again.

I go to my room first. It's exactly like I remember. Two bookshelves, one large and filled with novels and some comic book… what are they called? Omnibusses? I think it's omnibusses. The shorter bookshelf has all my university textbooks and personal artbooks (the drawings are terrible, I never put in enough effort). My bed looks the same as always, and when I lie down on it it feels just the same.

I investigate my computer next, and am surprised to find it actually works. I know when it comes to dreams you usually can't read words correctly due to some right brain left brain thing, but I can read everything fine here. This must be a special dream because of the Naga magic. I put on my headphones, open up youtube, and go to my favourite song list. I think there's a few videos missing, so this world must be based strictly on my memory. It can only show me what I remember.

Still, I run through all the songs I can recall. I probably spend hours on my computer, revelling in hearing the songs in their proper quality. Whenever I can't remember how a specific song goes, the song buffers and refuses to load.

I'm glad I got this opportunity to hear these songs again. Who knows how long I had before I truly started to forget them? I'll happily delay that time for as long as I can.

I don't stay in my room forever though. I'm tempted to turn on my Switch or my DS, but I have more important things to look at before I turn to those. I've spent two and a half hours on my computer if the time shown in the corner is at all accurate. I take my phone with me to have a mobile time source.

I take quick glances inside the rooms of my siblings. My siblings who I won't see again. Their rooms have their lights on, but with no occupants. One room has an active laptop with a half-written play on the screen. The other room has a DS, abandoned in the middle of a Pokemon battle. The third is messy, like it always was. Chip bags, soda cans, plates with pizza crusts. My youngest sibling was never particularly clean.

"Even in my dream you can't clean up your shit Dan." I murmur, and kick aside a Tostitos bag.

Last is my parents' room. Unlike all of the kids', it's not dusty and the sheets are properly tucked in. That's not what I'm here to see though. I reach under the bed and pull out a large plastic bin, which I then open.

Mom and Dad kept all our important photos in this bin. I was never very sentimental before, but as you can expect that's changed now. A disturbing number of the photo albums are blank, but I manage to find one single album that has viewable photos. I can see my parents' faces for the first time in half a year, and my siblings, and my siblings when they were younger. My parents wedding photo is also there at the very end.

I take the photo album back to my room, and after a moment's thought I also fetch my brothers' DS, Computer, and even a stupid plate and array them on the floor.

I know I won't be going into that cabinet. I'll be waiting to wake up and taking the full time I have.

The house looks the same, but no part of it holds as much emotional weight as the bedrooms so I don't spend much time there. Assuming this dream took hold as soon as it could, I should still have at _least_ four hours left, if not more.

I do have a few places I want to visit that aren't in the house. Thankfully they don't take too long to walk to. I throw on my hoodie- I'm in my old body apparently, I didn't even notice. I miss this. Weak, frail, probably not the healthiest, but it's _me_ \- and begin my walk.

Asphalt roads seem so unnatural now after weeks of dirt or cobble. Sidewalks are the same case. Most places we've gone don't _have_ sidewalks. I walk ten minutes down the main street to a mall, and then to the basement to the bowling alley I always went to. They served the _best_ chicken strips and fries, hands down. I don't stay there for long though. There's no food to eat after all, I just wanted to see this place again.

The same goes for my second destination. I walk five more minutes down the road to my high school. Just like everywhere else, the doors are unlocked and I can walk right in. I never saw half of the rooms, so they all end up being carbon copies of the few I do remember.

Believe it or not, those two buildings are the only other places I care to visit. I didn't get out much, and didn't care for most of the places I went.

With all of that done, I wander back home. I then go around grabbing anything I can think to care about. I grab old toys, game consoles, and some of my parents' favourite books and hoard them all in my room. By the time I have everything I want, the floor is almost totally unnavigable, with only a thin path to my desk and computer.

I'm at three hours and thirty minutes spent. That's just under half the time I expect to have, and two and a half hours away from the absolute minimum. I proceed to spend the entire rest of my available time in my room, which I suppose is very fitting. Once a shut-in always a shut-in.

There's a temptation to play Awakening with my free time, but I push that aside. This might be- no, it _will_ be my last to play any of these games in any fashion. I can't waste it. I play a bit of Pokemon, a bit of Darkest Dungeon, a bit of Bravely Second even, and some Three Houses.

Four hours total have passed since this dream started, then five, then six, then seven, then eight. At eight and a half hours, while I'm in the middle of playing Three Houses, I start to feel tired.

Feeling tired must mean I'm going to wake up soon. My time is up. I've been feeling a bit numb for this entire dream. Sometimes I was elated, like when I could hear the songs I've been singing _properly_ for the first time in months, but for the most part I've been in a daze. Now, with the imminent, unavoidable fact that this dream world is going to disappear along with my last chance to experience my old world in any way, I can feel the tears start to well up again.

Despite my blurred vision, I toss my switch aside and grab the picture album. I can fight waking up for just a bit, and I make use of it to flip through all those pictures again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again-

Eventually my vision is swimming, not from tears but from exhaustion. I can't fight waking up any longer. I want to stubbornly cling to this world, just to be able to see it and touch it and listen to it for just a bit longer. Just one more song, just one more game, just another hour, just one more flip through the album. Just let me sleep for another hour, or day, or month, or year.

I curl up in my bed, clutching the album.

" _I'm losing it all again._ " I think as my eyes are forced to droop as I continue to stare at the last photo in the album, and a black curtain drops over my vision. " _And it's so much worse because I know it's coming._ "

My eyes close, and the album slips from my hands. I don't hear it hit the floor, or feel my body fall back on my bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, not that long ago I mentioned a trigger. This is the first trigger. Nathan now knows he's stuck here, so putting actual effort towards things is now mandatory.
> 
> Probably a Morgan chapter next time, because Nathan won't be any fun for the next little while as he gets himself together.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Morgan time! There's a few things that I need Morgan for at this point, mostly in terms of things that she isn't going to say out loud so her POV is necessary to communicate it. Nothing plot-vital, but seeing as the characters are the focus of this story more so than the plot I'd say it's still important.

I've been trying to shake Nathan awake for nearly ten minutes before he finally opens his eyes. I can instantly tell what the result of his chat with Naga must have been. Even before he's fully awake his body language tells it all. He curls into a ball with fists clenched tightly and held against his chest.

He can't get home, and I'm not foolish enough to think anything I can say right now is going to make much of a difference. This is not something he'll get over in a day. Still, I play my part as a good girlfriend and embrace him as best I can with his curled position.

I'm not sure if Nathan realized it, but I had quite a bit at stake on the result of that talk as well. Not as much as Nathan of course. His entire future hung in the balance of whatever Naga told him, but for me this talk was going to decide if I had a potential long-term romantic partner or not, or if that board game business suggestion Nathan made was something to seriously consider (as I don't think I'd bother if he wasn't going to be around around, as much as I might like board games). Those are the only two things that come to mind, but they're significant.

There's no way I'm going to be able to admit, for a very long time, that I was hoping this would be the result. I was hoping Nathan wouldn't be able to find his way home. That's a horrible thing to want, I know. It's selfish. I'm not saying that I wouldn't have helped Nathan get home if he would, I absolutely would have, but I _wanted_ him to stay. He's my closest companion, and a romantic one at that. Can you blame me for wanting him to stay in my life?

Sure, he's easily panicked, generally nervous, socially awkward, not a fighter, and has few practical skills, but that skill problem can be fixed, he's intelligent in a general sense, he's always been willing to entertain me with a song or an explanation of some weird thing from his world, he's always willing to play games with me even if he loses literally all the time and happily indulges my quirks unless there's a good reason not to, his social awkwardness can actually be kind of adorable when it's not too extreme, and add on to that the fact that he so obviously adores me is a plus in my book (it's always nice to know you're loved). Also, he's cute. That might change if we can get his old body back somehow, but that's fine. Cuteness is a bonus, not a necessity.

I've also been consciously holding back on some shows of affection or flirtation. I didn't want to risk myself getting more attached to Nathan if he was going to be leaving. That limit is off now, but I'll have to hold back a bit longer because this is _not_ an appropriate time for this stuff.

Just something else to work into my plans for the future I suppose.

"Come on Nathan, breakfast is going to get cold." I say, pulling him by the arm. He slowly and silently follows with his eyes already starting to redden. Before he grabs his food though, he hands Nah's dragonstone back to her. I'm surprised he remembered.

Still, I know today is going to be a very long day. The only question is how long that's going to be.

I can say for certain travelling is a lot less fun without Nathan for entertainment. No jokes, no roleplay, no songs. He walks silently at the back of the group with his eyes on the road at all times, and more than once I have to nudge him to keep up the pace.

I could mention all the little interactions I have with Nathan through the day, but none of them are particularly notable. Just know that I kept an eye on him.

In other news, I got to see a dragon! Nah showed us a transformation because she hadn't transformed in months and it was driving her nuts. She's… smaller than I expected. Don't get me wrong, she's about the size of a wyvern, but I always imagined dragons as bulky, church-sized, fire-breathing behemoths and not skinny sparkly seaweed monsters.

Still, a dragon is a dragon. A seaweed dragon is still cool.

"Can I ride you sometime?" I ask eagerly. "I want to ride a dragon! Dragon rider Morgan!"

"No." Nah replies curtly. Her voice is all distorted and weird. I didn't know she could talk in dragon form! "Kjelle, please don't tell me she's just like Owain."

Kjelle's response is quick and flat. "She is."

"I guess it was too much to ask to be rid of him entirely." Nah grumbles.

Sourpuss. "Owain sounds like a lot of fun! You're just _boring_!" I taunt.

"I think the term you're looking for is 'mature'." Nah scoffs. She turns her back to me and flares her wings. "I'm going to fly a bit. Don't bother me."

The seaweed dragon takes to the air. "I wonder how those thin wings keep her up in the air." I say aloud. "Maybe magic is involved."

"According to all known laws of aviation…" Nathan mumbles from next to me. His expression is trying to be a smile, but it comes off as a grimace more than anything. I appreciate the attempt at least. "A bee should not be able to fly."

"Is that a joke?"

"Sort of." He sighs. "One of those weird things that's not quite a joke and not quite a meme. I can't explain why it's funny."

"Your world is weird Nathan."

"Yeah. I know."

Well that was mildly depressing. You know what's not depressing? Talking to Nah after she comes down from flying! I've got questions for her. "Hey, hey Nah."

"What?" She sounds exasperated already. How rude! I'm being friendly here! It's probably because I'm cute and she thinks I'm competition. That has to be it. Not that thing about Owain, nope, it's because I'm cute. Too bad for her I'm number one at literally everything because I'm just that awesome. She'll have to accept her defeat!

"Are manaketes people who turn into a dragon using a stone, or are they dragons that turn into people and put their power into stones?" I ask. "Which one is their true form?"

"Well I'm only half manakete." Nah says. "So I'm a special case, but for normal manaketes they're technically dragons that turn into people. Granted, from what Mom told me you can be born in human form with two manakete parents if they're in human form during the whole pregnancy, so…"

"It's weird and complicated?"

"Pretty much." Nah nods. "For me, I think my human form is my normal one. I'm a half-breed. Half human half dragon. I don't know if that technically makes me a manakete at all, actually…"

"Well you can turn into a dragon."

"Yeah, but a manakete is technically a dragon that has confined their power to a dragonstone." Nah explains. "They're still _dragons_ , it's just that manakete is what you call a dragon that has undergone that process. I'm not a dragon, I'm half dragon, and my human form might be my normal form, so I don't know if that makes me a manakete, a reverse manakete. or if I'm just a girl with some dragon magic."

"Wait." I say. "So manaketes were actually dragons? Like, full-blooded dragons?"

"Yep. They just hide it."

"Woaaah." I say. "When Nathan told me about them, I thought dragons and manaketes were two different things."

"Nope. Manaketes are just a subset of dragon."

"Cool…"

"Any more questions you just can't _bear_ to hold in?" Nah asks. She's being sarcastic. I know she's being sarcastic. I also don't care.

"Yes! How old are you? Who's your father? What's Inigo like? Do you like board games? Do you know any good ones? Where did you get those clothes? Do you know you look like a doll?" I take a deep breath after the last question, then smile and eagerly await a response.

"Eighteen, Ricken, he's a womanizer, they're fine, no, I bought them, yes and I hate that people keep mentioning it." Nah responds flatly. "Happy?"

"Yes! I bet they keep mentioning it because you're cute. Not as cute as me, but pretty cute!"

"Sure." Nah's says. "Now don't talk to me for, like, two hours. You're exhausting."

###

In our haste to leave town, we didn't get a tent or bedroll for Nah (Kjelle donated her own bedroll, and she, Noire, and Nah all managed to squeeze into one tent) so we remedy that when we reach town that afternoon.

My legs ache from walking all day when we get back from the market though. I didn't get the usual piggyback from Nathan, so I'm feeling the burn this time. "My poor legs..."

"That means you're improving." Kjelle says. "You want that feeling."

"No, I really don't." I respond. "I'm not a masochist like you."

Kjelle's lips thin. "You're a poor excuse for a soldier then. If you're not constantly striving to improve, how do you expect to be able to defend others?"

"Hey, I said I wasn't a masochist, not that I wasn't trying to be better." I protest. "I practice my magic!"

"Magic isn't everything." Kjelle insists.

I roll my eyes. "Neither is physical training."

"You should at least be able to get through a march. That's the bare minimum of being a soldier." Kjelle says.

"I did get through a march. I did so today!" I retort.

"And you complained for the last half an hour. Clearly you're out of shape if a normal march is unusually hard on you." Kjelle insists. "Even Laruent could march without issue, and he's a mage like yourself."

"Good for him." I say. "I don't care."

"You cannot afford to be so lazy." Kjelle scolds. "For your own good as well as the good of others, you need to put in more effort."

"You just don't like that I have a boyfriend who will give me rides."

"No." Kjelle says flatly. "I honestly couldn't care less about that. As long as you keep up your training, I have no issue with you _occasionally_ getting rides. I want us to all survive and be ready for Grima's rise, and all the battles that are going to come with the Valm campaign, and that means constant training."

"None of that is going to happen for at least two years if Nathan's info is accurate." I remind her. "But I suppose I can see your point. I've been a bit negligent. I could stand to walk a bit more."

"That's all I ask." Kjelle says. She then hesitates, closes her eyes for a moment, and continues speaking. "I realize we're not on the best of terms, so let me make the situation clear: I don't like you, and it's because you can't seem to take anything seriously. Worse than not liking you though, I don't _trust_ you. In this case I don't trust you for the same main reason I don't like you, and I don't think I can reasonably be expected to follow the lead of someone I don't trust."

Okay, I guess this is a serious conversation now. I've admittedly been putting off this conversation for a few days, so now is as good a time as ever. "I do take things seriously, I just don't address them as such. No need for undue doom and gloom! I was very serious about Nah, but I also realized we hadn't taken a proper break for months. I probably could have handled the situation better, but I stand by my reasoning. Leaving three hours earlier wasn't going to make a difference, and we _knew_ Nah wasn't in immediate danger."

"I suppose." Kjelle says, though she clearly doesn't like my response. "Let me put it this way. Would you have had the same reaction if it was Nathan in Nah's position, or your father?"

"Of course not."

"Would you have been alright with me insisting we not leave to find them immediately once we knew how to find them?"

"I mean, depending on your reason I might have accepted it. Not sure I'd be happy about it though."

"There's my point." Kjelle says. She crosses her arms. "And now imagine that I told you, regardless of how much I actually meant it, that the reason we aren't going to help them immediately is because I want to go _shopping_."

"Okay, point taken, I handled it badly." I huff.

"But is the point really taken? Are you actually listening?" Kjelle asks sharply. "I wouldn't put it past you to ignore me because you're confident in your own decisions. I know full well how much of an ego you have."

"Rude!" I pout. I know she has a point though. My ego has gotten me into trouble before, like on the boat. "I'm listening!"

Kjelle is unmoved. "I'll believe it when I see evidence. I've said my part. It's up to you to decide what to do about it."

Well screw you too. You have a point and I'll keep it in mind, but screw you.

###

"Why are your ears pointed?"

"I don't know."

"Do you fly by physical means or magical?"

"I don't know."

"What are your favourite colors?"

"Blue and green. Light green."

I scribble that down. "Are we friends?"

"Not yet."

"Why are you so cute?"

"Luck."

"Are you _sure_ you won't-"

"You're not getting a ride anytime soon."

"Aww…"

###

So, remember how I said we went out to get a tent for Nah? Specifically, that was me, Kjelle, and Nah. Noire and Nathan stayed behind at the inn where we rented rooms. That's important, because I come back to find them actually talking to each other.

This is important because Noire and Nathan almost _never_ talk to each other. They're both shy and awkward, Noire is somewhat disturbed about Nathan's future knowledge, and Nathan constantly fumbles his words when under pressure (such as when talking to an attractive girl like Noire). So this situation is really unprecedented.

The two of them are in mine and Nathan's room, and I heard them through the door, so you better bet I put my ear to that thing and start listening!

"-could talk to Morgan." Noire is saying.

"I will." Nathan responds. His voice is dull and hoarse. "Didn't want to in the morning, and not with everyone around. Probably after dinner."

"Ah." Noire says. "I-I didn't mean to be presumptuous or anything, b-but Morgan doesn't remember anything, and I know what it's like to realize you won't be going home, so I-I thought I might be able to help…"

"And I appreciate it." Nathan says. "You… you're better now, right? Mostly?"

"Oh! W-Well, mostly." Noire says. "I-It's not the old world that I miss so much as I miss how my mother used to be before Grima. I've had a long time to get used to it."

"If it's any condolence…" Nathan offers hesitantly. "The game endings tend to have Tharja turn out better than her future version, all from everything I've seen from this world so far negative traits tend to be less prominent, so there's hope."

"That's… that's good." Noire whispers. "I hope it turns out well."

The two of them fall quiet, and I take this opportunity to slink away from the door. I'll probably mention later that I overheard, but I don't want to barge in now.

" _How very in-character for Nathan to turn the situation around to Noire._ " I muse silently. That's not the first time he's done something of the sort. Whenever he receives help, he seems to feel obliged to offer something in return. " _But he talks to Noire before me? Really? C'mon… I wanted to help!_ "

I'm not actually too annoyed. Noire saw that she had enough in common with his situation to try and offer comfort, and did so. She very rightfully recognized that I haven't gone through the same thing. My amnesia is a different case. I can only mourn what might have been, whereas those two can mourn family and friends and all sorts of other things with complete and painful clarity.

"Or maybe she's just trying to steal my boyfriend because she can't bear to lose to me." I joke to myself. "I'm so cute she's intimidated by me, clearly that's it!"

The joke would be a lot more fun if someone were around to hear it. I can imagine Nathan either expanding on the joke or throwing out a compliment like he usually does. I could also tease him about how he's awkward around Noire because she's hot, that's always fun. Oh, or we could fall into the old standby of me being the center of his "collection" of girls! That's always a fun scenario to play with.

It hasn't been a day and I'm already missing my banter with Nathan. I really need other friends, if only so I have other people to vent my energy on when me and Nathan are separated for more than a few hours.

I'm glad to see Nathan and Noire talking though. Nathan could use another friend.

###

I know the talk is coming because of what I overheard, so I'm ready when Nathan quietly murmurs "I'm not going home." when we retire to our room after dinner.

"I assumed as much." I reply gently. "Is it not possible to recreate the portal?"

"I think it is." He says, to my surprise. "Naga said it was possible for me to get home."

What? "Why aren't you going to go home then?"

"Because there, I'm _dead_." He rasps. "Heart attack. If I went back, even if I could get my old body, I'd still have to explain that away, and no explanation would convince them that I don't have brain damage or some mental illness. That's not taking into account that I would have a second body either. There's no way I could explain that."

I'm not sure if it's better or worse that he _could_ technically get home but doing so would effectively be worse than staying here. On one hand he has closure, and on the other it must feel like the universe is spitting in his face and taunting him that he _can_ get home but it won't improve his situation.

"So I'm stuck here." He continues dully. "Though it's not all bad news."

"Oh?"

"Apparently I can get my old body back in some fashion. Naga said to talk to Miriel."

"Ooh! That _is_ good news!" I say with maybe a bit too much eagerness. I really want to see what he looks like okay? Also, can I just say how weird it is that he can casually mention that he talked to Naga now? That _is_ weird, right?

"I hope getting my body back isn't painful. I don't like pain." He mutters.

"But it would be worth it, right?"

"I think you underestimate how squeamish I am."

"Anesthetic spells exist." I reassure him. "If that helps."

"It does." He flops onto the bed on his back. "Kinda."

When he doesn't speak for a minute, I pipe up again. "Was that it?"

"More or less." He murmurs. "I won't get to talk to my family ever again, which is depressing of course, but I imagine I'll get over that eventually. I have you."

"Of course you do!" Normally I'd add a joke about how I'm so awesome that I make up for any loss, but that would be insensitive right now. "A cute girlfriend doesn't make up for everything, but it's pretty sweet!"

"Yeah." He says softly. "Thanks Morgan."

Don't give me doe eyes _now_! You're sad! Don't tempt me while you're sad! Stop being cute! "No problem!" I chirp, and also flop onto the bed. "So… is this the part where we cuddle?"

"If you want."

I poke him in the cheek. "Nathan, you're the one who's distraught. The question is if it's what _you_ want."

His voice is barely audible, and he turns his head away as he speaks. "Yes please."

Stop. Being. Cute. Also, why are you acting nervous? I offered this literally five seconds ago. It's not like I'm suddenly going to refuse. This isn't the time to tackle his paranoia though. We can deal with that later. Now is the time for hugs!

Despite the generally horrible circumstances surrounding this, it's a pleasant way to spend the evening. I can imagine it will be much more fun in the future when he's _not_ in mourning.

" _I wonder what this will be like when he gets his old body too._ " I muse. Apparently he was shorter than he is now. I have to wonder if I'll be taller than him at some point. Assuming, of course, I can grow. Being taller than him would be fun. He could be the one on _my_ lap when we sit around the fire. Hehe…

Focus! Not the time for that. Naga, maybe Kjelle is right and I can't be serious. I can't help but look forward to better times though! Things will get better, and it will be great when they do, and so I look forward to them. Simple. I want to enjoy life! Is that so wrong?

I'm still getting distracted. Focus Morgan! Someone as awesome as you can focus for a few hours on comforting someone.

###

It takes a few days before Nathan starts to come out of his cuddle-and-cry state. It starts with a joke (albeit a really weak one), and an offer of a ride which I accept (I know Kjelle told me to exercise more, and I will, but I'm not going to turn down the first gesture Nathan offers me while recovering from his funk).

A welcome side-effect of this ordeal is that Noire is less of a recluse in our group. After her and Nathan's heart-to-heart, she's occasionally willing to contribute to a conversation that isn't about our trip. Not frequently, but sometimes, and that's an improvement.

For example, Nathan is asking about dark magic. Specifically "How is it different from anima? I know the games say that it's addictive or that it relies on negative emotion or something, but this world isn't exactly like the games so I thought I'd ask."

Noire speaks up before I can, because (I guess thanks to Tharja) she actually knows something about dark magic. "D-Dark magic doesn't rely on _negative_ emotion exactly. It's just a lot easier to recall and induce intense negative emotion on a whim than positive emotions. There are dark magic spells for growing plants and curing sickness, but it's hard to force yourself to feel love or joy, especially when dealing with a potentially stressful situation."

"So negative emotion is simply more practical?"

"Y-Yes." She nods. "I-I actually know a curse or two that are based on positive emotion."

"Sorry, a _curse_ that's based on positivity?" I ask.

"Yes. A curse is a permanent effect with a specific trigger to remove it. The effect doesn't necessarily have to be bad." Noire explains. "I-I know a curse that helps ease muscle aches as long as you don't use too much energy, and another that lets you walk on water as long as you keep your breathing steady."

"Those are really specific requirements to keep the curses going." I point out. "And why not just have a permanent effect? Why have dispel criteria at all?"

"It actually makes the curse easier to cast." Noire explains. "H-Having a dispel criteria means you don't have to put as much energy towards making sure the curse sticks around. For that water walking curse, I only have to make sure the spell sticks around so long as they keep their breathing steady, which is _one_ effect, so I don't have to put any energy into making sure it stays around if you cough, or if you turn into a boar, of anything like that."

"So you can skimp on other parts of the casting to make the curse easier to cast." Nathan says. "The easier the curse is to dispel, the easier it is to cast and sustain."

"Exactly. That's why it's hard to make powerful permanent effects, because they have to have so many conditions to keep them from being negated and counter-spelled." Noire murmurs. "That's why cursing is so easy to learn too, because the power requirements to get started with basic curses are so low, and can be supplemented by emotion, that even someone who can't normally conjure a spark of flame for the life of them can usually manage a small curse."

"That also means the more strict the condition, the harder the curse is to cast, right?"

"Yes." Noire nods. "And some things that are called curses aren't technically curses at all. A spell that causes you to slowly wither away isn't technically a curse unless there's intentional weakness in the spell structure to make it easier to cast. If there isn't, then it's just a nasty enchantment."

"Huh." I muse. "That sounds very useful. Maybe I'll have to learn to curse."

"It's easy." Nathan jokes. "Fuck, shit, goddamnit."

"I never thought of that!" I cry. "I'm already a cursing master!"

"Don't you mean a _fucking_ master?" Nathan says with a smile. "Because then it's a curse?"

"Of course! I should have thought of that!" I say. "I'm a fucking master of cursing!"

Noire silently shakes her head and exits the conversation. I'm glad she participated though. Now if we can just get her to roleplay everything will be perfect!

###

Nah gets along surprisingly well with everyone. She's not particularly close to anyone, but she doesn't have a natural animosity towards anyone either. She doesn't mind training or talking about training so she gets along with Kjelle, she and Noire have quiet conversations around the fire about various things (I hear their parents mentioned sometimes, as well as some of the other future kids), she puts up with my questions with only minor irritation if I'm particularly insistent, and she indulges Nathan's questions in exchange for the occasional piggyback ride.

Maybe that's what I need to get Nah to like me more. A bribe! Nathan can offer rides, so I need to offer something else. Maybe money? I have a lot of that. That might be too blatant though. I need to be subtle. What does Nah like? Maybe I can buy her friendship with a new… uh… hair clip.

I really need to find out what she likes. I should also write it down. I have notes for Nathan but no one else. I should start writing down what _everyone_ likes in case I need to bribe them in the future! Genius idea Morgan! This is why you're a master tactician! Twenty steps ahead!

When I proudly tell Nathan about my plan, he gives a flat look and says "Morgan, that's a great idea for all the wrong reasons."

"What? Bribery is a great reason!"

"It's really not."

"What then?"

"So you never forget gift ideas when it's someone's birthday, or Christmas."

"What's Christmas?"

"Uh… religious holiday. You give gifts to people."

"I thought you were atheist."

"I am, but my family wasn't, and it's not like I'm going to pass up an opportunity to get gifts and eat good food."

Very pragmatic of you Nathan. I approve! I also have no idea if a holiday like that exists in this world. Specific holidays are something that I can't remember. "But what's wrong with bribing people?" I ask petulantly.

"If I seriously have to answer that question, I'm very concerned." Nathan replies. "Though I suppose if you're bribing the bad guys it could be useful sometimes."

"Bribe the guards, kill the lords! Take their money!" I proclaim in our usual over dramatic fashion.

"Then forge their wills and take their land!" He adds, jumping into the act. "And slaughter all their remaining family so none can oppose you!"

"Gut the ranks of royalty and nobility! Become the only ruler left!" I cry. "Become a living _god_ in the eyes of others! Blood! Money! Sex! All of it at your fingertips!"

"Grima himself will gawk at the size of your empire!" Nathan proclaims. "All hail Morgan, the Thieving Queen!"

"All hail _me!_ " I shout, and just for effect I stick a hand up in the air and let fly some small sparks. I'm grinning like an idiot at this point. "The best briber in the history of bribing! The best forger on the planet! An all-around scumbag if I wasn't so Naga-damned _cute_ , and I'm the best at that too! Anyone who I can't swindle I can charm the pants off! Literally if I want!"

Kjelle cuts in. "Do you have to be disgusting _every single time_ you two do an act?"

"It's not disgusting, you're just a prude." I protest. "And I don't do it every time!"

"Just frequently." Nathan points out, and pokes me in the nose. "Lewd girl."

I have a strong temptation to nibble his finger or make a lewd comment, but I hold off. I don't want to give Kjelle even more evidence against me. It would be fun to see Nathan sputter though. Or maybe he'd play along, I don't know, but I think embarrassment would be more likely. That's fine though. More chances for me to press the attack and- okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. "You know it and you love it!"

"I mean, you're not wrong." He admits nervously. "Uh, but for now, down girl."

I can't help my wide grin. "Woof."

"Can you two _not_?!" Kjelle barks.

"You're no fun." I pout. Someday I'm actually going to get to go further with my lewd jokes, and it will be a glorious day indeed.

###

It's my job to get us transport to Ylisse, and it's to my surprise when Nathan offers to help. I accept of course.

Nathan sucks at talking to people. I'm not being mean, that's just a fact. Still, he's making an effort to help, so I won't turn him down. If he learns now he'll be able to do it on his own in the future. Getting transport isn't _difficult_ exactly, you just need to be careful about negotiating the price… which is something Nathan absolutely can't do, so I'll probably have to step in for that.

I have to wonder just how many basic things Nathan doesn't know how to do. He was a shut-in before, and by his own admission either didn't know how to and/or wasn't comfortable doing very normal things. I remember that time I asked Nathan to see if a shop had a whetstone, and due to an unnecessary amount of politeness he ended up buying it instead and for a ridiculously high price because he has no sense of money.

Fear not Nathan! Your incredible girlfriend will show you how to be a functional human being! Wait, that sounds mean. Uh... I will teach you life skills! Yeah, that sounds better. I, your incredibly intelligent and awesome and cute and humble girlfriend will teach you life skills!

Or at least I'll support you while you fumble your way through learning them if it's not something I can teach.

"So we want something relatively cheap." I remind him. "All the half-decent passenger ships are going to be for the super rich people. We want a cargo ship like last time, or maybe a merchant vessel if they don't mind some tag-alongs."

"O-Okay." He mumbles. "How do we tell who's a merchant captain? Wouldn't they look like passenger ship captains?"

I wonder what he thinks a merchant captain looks like. I could just tell him what we're looking for, _or_ I could make this a learning experience. "What do you think?"

Nathan glances to me and back to our surroundings. We're at the dockyard on the south side of the island. He hesitantly points to a woman with a simple, light blue shirt and long, baggy, brown-beige pants.

I can tell even from this distance that the material of her clothes are _quite_ high quality. She's might look like she's dressed in simple clothes, but those are costly simple clothes, and Nathan seems to have missed the two rings on her fingers that look like they're made of gold and silver. They're simple bands, but those are also not cheap. If that lady is a merchant, she's a hella rich one. "I'm fairly sure she owns a passenger ship Nathan." That's probably how she has so much money to spend: because she gouges rich people for her job.

"Oh." He cringes. "Then... him?"

This time he points to a rather rough-looking man dressed in woolen browns and beiges with a wide-brimmed brown hat tied to his head with a cord. I'm pretty sure Nathan picked him out just because he has a hat and most people are wearing bandannas. It's not the worse guess he could have made. If someone is going to stand out from the crowd of generic sailors, it's not too unreasonable to assume they're mildly important. Judging by the fact that this man is hauling crates rather than directing other people, however, I'm fairly sure that's another bad guess. "No again."

"Oh." He starts looking again, and I grab his shoulder. He tried, and he's only going to depress himself if he makes another mistake. Time to solve and explain it for him.

"Try him." I say, and point to a fairly safe guess. The man doesn't look too different from anyone else around him. He's got a bandanna and weather worn, beige and brown clothes. "It's not the dress that's important necessarily, look at the behavior. He's giving orders, right? He's also talking to that dockhand with a ledger, maybe about inventory or just how long he plans to be here or whatever, but that's not something any old crewmate is going to do. If he's not the captain, he's at least a first mate or someone important on the ship."

Nathan nods in understanding. "Right. That makes sense. Should have been looking at actions."

I stare at Nathan while he watches the captain. After several seconds, I nudge Nathan with my shoulder. "And now we go and ask if he's leaving port soon, and if we can buy a ride."

"R-Right." He pauses for a second, probably expecting me to lead, and when I don't he finally realizes that I'm making _him_ do this. He wanted to come along and help, so that's what I'm facilitating. "Me?"

"I'll be right beside you." I say, and wrap myself around one of his arms. "But yes, _you_. You wanted to help, right?"

"Right." He says. His voice is unsteady, I can feel the tension in his arm, and I can see the way his fingers come together and squeeze each other. I have to wonder how he got through life before if just talking to people is nerve-wracking. "O-Okay, let's go."

We weave our way through the various sailors and dockhands and over to the captain. Nathan waits until the captain is no longer speaking with the man with the ledger, takes a deep breath, and approaches.

"P-Pardon me." Nathan says. The captain doesn't notice at all due to Nathan's quiet voice, and so Nathan has to repeat himself but louder. "Pardon me!"

The captain turns to face us with his brow furrowed. I know that's confusion on his face, but I'm expecting Nathan to think it's annoyance. Judging by how his arm tightens in mine, I think I'm right. "What? What is it? Was there another form? Are you from the dockmaster too?"

"I- We- No." Nathan stutters. "W-We wish to inquire if you are captaining a ship that is returning t-to Ylisse soon."

That's very formal, and totally unlike how Nathan normally speaks. Considering we're talking to a captain, likely of a cargo ship, it's probably to Nathan's _detriment_ to be speaking so formally because it's going to make him sound high-class, and cross-class interactions are less likely to go over smoothly due to animosity between the members of those classes. It's not an unbridgeable gap, but it is an unnecessary extra complication. I'm going to guess that didn't occur to Nathan though. Maybe the formal speech is a stress-response.

The captain crosses his arms and scrutinizes Nathan, taking in the shabby clothes but clean-shaven face, as well as me clinging to his arm. I grin and wink at the captain, and he raises an eyebrow. "And if I am?"

"We would like to purchase passage for five if that is the case." Nathan says. "Only, of course, if you have space for us."

"What business do a Chon'sinese and a Plegian have in Ylisse?" The captain asks suspiciously.

I'm not sure if I should regard that question as being xenophobic or not. His tone suggests xenophobia, but it is a legitimate question (disregarding the fact that we're already in Ylisse, and even if we weren't we'd be crossing from the Feroxi border).

"We're visiting family in Ylisstol." Nathan says. His stammers have stopped, and his explanation sounds oddly rehearsed. Has he been in situations like this before? "We were doing some mercenary work up in Ferox, and had to stop by this island to pick the last of our group because she was visiting family of her own."

The Captain still looks cautious, but he doesn't question our motive further. "Well a cargo ship is a crowded place. We don't have much extra space. It'll cost ya to come along."

"Thirty copper per person." I cut in, knowing that Nathan can't negotiate price. Thirty is probably a bit low. The food cost per person is probably around twenty-eight copper for a week long trip (two meals a day that are worth around two copper), and adding onto that the space we'll take up and the fact that we won't be helping at all around the boat and it's reasonable for him to ask for more than thirty. However, if he only wants to offer super basic food like bread and water, or maybe just soup, then thirty copper is actually reasonable, and we'll decline because I don't want to eat bread and water for seven days.

"Two silver. Each." He counters. That's ridiculously high. Let me remind you that staying at an inn in Ferox for one day was less than ten copper for one room, and less than twenty for two, and meals only cost maybe three copper each if you're getting basic stuff. If we want to go by some sort of calculation... let's say seven copper for a room a day, so seven times seven for one room for a week is forty-nine, and then each individual meal is three copper, so that's five people times three meals that cost three copper times seven days which is one-hundred and eighty-nine copper, so for all of us that would be two-hundred and thirty-eight copper, or two silver and thirty-eight copper _total_ , not individually. Even if we allow meals to cost a bit more, which is absurd to consider because three copper per meal is already quite a bit for basic foodstuff, it's nowhere near worth two silver a person.

"If you're charging us that, we better be getting some damn fine food and two good rooms." I scoff. Next to offer something more reasonable, but a bit lower than I'm willing to go. "Fifty each. That's more than enough to cover some decent food for each of us." Either that's two meals a day worth three copper, or three meals worth two, which would amount to forty-two copper each in both cases. Either way, if I'm paying more than a copper for one meal, I better be getting some vegetables or meat.

For reference, a single basic loaf of bread is worth about one copper. A single loaf of bread could also probably feed two people for a meal if they only had bread. My point is, if I'm paying two-to-three copper per meal, I better get more than bread unless you're giving me multiple full loaves. It doesn't have to be much more, but it has to be something.

"I think you're underestimating just how much two rooms on my ship is worth." The captain huffs.

"We can take one." I say. "As long as there's at least four mattresses."

"Four?"

"Four."

"It would have to be hammocks. We don't got the money to waste on mattresses."

Ahh, that might be a bad sign. "Do you have modern barrels for food and water storage?"

T

"What? You mean the two-walled ones?" The captain says. "'Course I do. Any self-respectin' captain would. They're the reason we don't got any mattresses."

That's a relief at least. "Well that's fine then. We can take one room if it will fit five people." We can just use our bedrolls and blankets if need be. "So, fifty is fine? Two and a half silver total?"

"Seventy each." He shoots out.

"Don't insult me." I scoff. "My offer is perfectly reasonable. Two copper for a simple meal per person is already pushing it considering what you can offer if you're tight on money, and assuming that's three meals a day for a week, that's forty-two copper per person. That leaves eight copper per person to cover the room, which is forty whole copper, which is far more than enough. I could have argued to pay forty-five copper a person. If anything, I'm being _generous_ here, because if you have a room you can spare in the first place you weren't getting any money from it and whatever I offer is just a bonus."

The captain stares me down, and I return his stare with utter confidence. I know I'm right. It's up to him if he wants to be stubborn and ruin his chances at some solid money by getting greedy. As it turns out, he's not that stupid, and he reluctantly nods his head. "Fifty per person, one room, good food. We leave in two days, sunup. Got more cargo coming tomorrow."

"Good." I say with a smug grin. "I'll give you your money when we're about to leave. In the meantime…" I fish two silver out of my coin pouch and hand them to him. "Get your men some proper mattresses man, and some good food _for everyone_ while you're at it. I don't want to be eating bread and water."

He stares in surprise at the extra money, and then swiftly pockets it. "Alrighty then, welcome aboard Miss…?"

How quickly his distrust changes when I throw a bit of money around. Predictable. "Morgan." I say, and then lean into Nathan. "And Nathan."

"Miss Morgan, Sir Nathan." He nods. "Is there anything else."

It really is comical how his demeanor has changed. "We're good, thank you Captain. We'll see you in two days then, sunrise."

I cheerfully lead Nathan away from the docks with our mission accomplished. That was shaky at the start but turned out fine.

"You did well Nathan!" I chirp. Well, he did well after I pointed him in the right direction. For someone with next to no social skills by their own admittance, that went fine.

"I couldn't even find a captain. I got it wrong twice." He mumbles.

"The actual talk went fine." I say. "You didn't annoy him and got our desires across. Don't worry."

"But-"

"Don't. Worry." I repeat a bit more forcefully. "You did fine and you'll improve next time. Don't angst over it."

"Okay…"

You worry too much Nathan. That would be belittling to say though, especially considering he probably knows that already.

"Thanks Morgan." He mumbles, and gives me a one-armed squeeze. "For staying next to me."

Sap. "What? Are you saying you wouldn't have stayed next to me in the same situation?" I say teasingly.

"O-Of course I would have! I was thanking you to be polite!" He stammers, apparently missing the tease.

"It was a joke Nathan." I reassure him. "And it was no problem. I'm more than happy to do that if it makes you feel better."

"Oh…"

Hmm, I need to relieve some of his anxiety. Time for flirty Morgan! I tighten my grip on his arm and pull it against my body. "And besides, you totally enjoy having a cute girl pressing herself into you, didn't you?"

His face rapidly turns red, though he does squeak out "Yes."

Never underestimate the power of flirtation! Guaranteed to improve your mood, especially if it's _me_ , because I'm awesome.

###

So I know I'm a super cute, flirty, dirty-minded, mildly boyfriend-obsessed young girl, but I'm also a warrior. I just don't show it all that often because it's not fun to act all "hur dur I can stab people!" That's Kjelle's job. I _like_ being able to flirt, joke, and generally be frivolous. It's fun.

So for the most part it's when we spar that the group is reminded that yes, I do in fact know how to fight. I can't usually beat Kjelle due to her armor, but I'm slowly learning how to exploit the weak points in her armor and how her fighting style leaves them open. Noire I can usually beat in a dagger fight. She's not a pushover, but she is an archer primarily. She has enough skill to not be helpless.

I think she'd do better with having a sword as a backup weapon though, or maybe a spear. A dagger is a bit _too_ short-ranged for the battlefield.

Nah I can't spar with. She's a dragon. Her fire doesn't have a "not horribly painful" setting. She'd probably thrash all of us due to her raw strength and resilience though. Dragons are strong.

And then, Nathan. Nathan sucks. I'm sure that's not a surprise. Fighting him is not an exercise in how quickly I can win, in fact it's not really a competition at all. With Nathan I'm teaching because his skill level is too low to pose a proper threat at the moment.

It's a different story if we do hand-to-hand where his raw strength is enough to be a threat, but with weapons he's almost helpless. Even with hand-to-hand I win every round. It doesn't help that he's extremely pain-averse, so he doesn't use his more useful options against me like grabs because that ends up with me kneeing him in the gut or kicking him in the shins most of the time. Though to be fair, if it were an actual fight I'd be kneeing him in the groin and without free hands he really wouldn't have a way to defend against that even if I were grabbed.

Well actually that's not true, he does come up with a way to stop me. Once he manages to land a bear-hug on me and lift me up, he twists his hips to the side and forces his thigh between my legs, then quickly uses one hand to hike my legs around his waist and take a wide stance.

Don't get me wrong, this position is incredibly impractical. Has has to stand with his legs oddly spread apart, rely on the fact that I can't get my own legs back around to his front, and also he has to use one hand to keep my hips pressed against him and only has one arm to keep my arms pinned, and I could still probably bite him like this, but credit where credit is due he _did_ solve his problem to some extent.

I still managed to slip a hand free and chop at his throat, which ends his grab and allows me the opportunity to hop around behind him and force his arms behind his back as he's trying to recover his breath, but he did better this time! Good job Nathan!

He takes a small sip of vulnerary after our spar to get rid of the discomfort lingering around his throat from my chop. From the face he makes, I guess the taste of vulnerary still doesn't agree with him.

"You did better!" I praise.

"I still sucked."

"Well yeah, but that's because you won't do proper grabs." I huff. "Just _wrestle_ next time, you're bigger and stronger than me! You can pin me easily if you can get a hold of me! Just press me into the ground and pin my hands above my head."

"Uh, sure." He mumbles, seemingly minorly embarrassed.

"I know it's kinky." I say, as it just now occurs to me that the position I suggested could be construed as intimate. "But I swear I'm being serious. That _is_ a good position for subduing me. Just make sure my legs are either outside yours, or that you're sitting on my hips or waist so I can't kick you, and that you quickly get a grip on my arms or wrists, or else I can do some serious damage."

"Okay."

"Besides, I'm sure we'll both enjoy it." I quip. Nathan rolls his eyes and, to my surprise, pats me on the head.

"Sure Morgan." He says. "Whatever you say."

"Are you patronizing me?" I pout.

"Yes." He says, with a hint of tease in his voice. "I'm older than you, remember? I'm allowed to patronize you."

"Oh, is that how it works?" I say with a smile. "If you being patronizing gets me pats on the head, I'll happily accept it."

"Though maybe we should keep training rather than flirting." Nathan suggests.

"We can do both." I chirp.

"Or that." He agrees, wearing a smile that looks slightly tired. I wonder if today is a bad day for him. He stopped volunteering his inner turmoil about being stuck in this world a few days after talking with Naga, probably so he doesn't sound whiny, but I'm not foolish enough to assume that he's suddenly better.

At least he's improving. I have to be satisfied with that. I wish he'd say more though, or at least ask for hugs when he needs them.

###

Our accommodations on the ship are bare-bones as I expected. The room is small, not even four meters by four meters, and can barely fit all of us. We're fairly cramped when we sleep, though we're plenty used to that since we sleep in small tents and I always sleep in the same bed as Nathan when we stay at inns anyhow. The mattresses, newly bought, might as well be the floor for how little space there is. I imagine in the future bunk beds will be set up to help with the space issue.

It's only in retrospect that I realize how weird that inn thing is actually. During my first week of life that I can remember, I was totally okay with crawling into bed with a random stranger, and it's carried on from then. I'm more than familiar with Nathan _now_ , but I wasn't before. He had probably saved my life, so there's that, but in hindsight that was a questionable decision made out of loneliness and a desperation for comfort.

Not that you'd have been able to tell, because I can hide my emotions rather well behind a cheery facade.

Anyhow. Our trip is a lot less eventful than last time. Learning from last time, Noire doesn't hide away from the sailors and I make sure not to antagonize them too much. We make ourselves decently social, and me and Nathan even play some barrels with them. The food is fine with vegetables, fruits, bread and meat, and the water is okay. Nothing really happens beyond that.

The week passes without little of note happening. I'm glad to get off the boat where it isn't cramped, and where I don't have Kjelle in the same room as me telling me to stop having fun when I flirt with Nathan.

It would be nice to have a few days I can spend with Nathan _alone_ , where I don't have to worry about Kjelle being a killjoy or having to hold back on what we do when we return to our inn or camp for the same reason. I've had to hold back on anything too forward due to the others (mainly Kjelle). I think that's something I have to put in the back of my mind for later though. Maybe once we're to Ylisstol.

We're going to get to Ylisstol soon now that I think of it. I mean, it will probably take a month and a bit to get to Ylisstol (we don't have snow slowing us down this time), but that means in a month I might be seeing my father. I don't know if I'm excited or worried. Maybe both. Definitely both. I still don't know what to say to him. I really hope everything goes smoothly. Everything should go well. I am awesome, but awesomeness doesn't mean everything goes perfectly.

Anyhow. Ylisse looks a lot different from Ferox, and a lot different from the island of money. The trees don't have huge leaves or pine needles, but generally have smaller leaves that aren't clustered near the top like on the island, but aren't all over the tree even near the bottom like pines. The branches start halfway up the trunk for the most part.

I don't know botany though. I assume the position of branches and leaves are significant, but I really don't know for sure.

Also, as we were walking about, I'm getting odd looks. Me specifically. I think my grimleal-like coat is finally being noticed… or maybe they just really like my coat, or my face, or _me_ because I'm just that awesome.

Yeah, totally the last one. They sense my innate aura of awesomeness and understand on a primal level that I am to be admired and worshiped!

Maybe it's because I've got dragon blood! I think that's what Nathan said. I've got Fell lineage or something, so Grima blood, and therefore I'm part evil dragon god! I'm pretty sure that means I can officially be an evil overlord if I want, and eventually rank up to evil empress! I can be the evil dragon empress of darkness! Woo!

Except being evil is no fun if you're actually evil. Roleplaying evil is great. Actual evil? Not so much.

Also, I have to try this again. "You know, we could get to Ylisstol a lot faster if we had a dragon to ride."

"Not happening." Nah says quickly.

"Aww…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan is always a treat to write, but I had to hold off on a lot of things so as to not use all my material now. We also covered a lot of ground in this chapter both literally and in terms of things happening between characters. The group got off the island and are within two month's travel of Ylisstol, Noire and Nathan are no longer awkwardly avoiding each other, and Nah will (maybe) be Morgan's friend if Morgan can stop bugging her for more than ten minutes.
> 
> Nathan quietly recovers in this chapter. You won't see too much angsting about his family from now on out, just the side-effects of him knowing he's stuck in this world.
> 
> We're almost at Ylisstol, and Ylisstol is important because it's where the Shepherds' barracks is at. If the Shepherds are there, it means all the kids get to talk to their parents (and Nathan gets to panic about actually meeting the first generation, including Morgan's parents, which will be fun… for me. Hopefully for all of you too, but for me guaranteed).


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed your Morgan break, because it's back to Nathan now. We've hit the first trigger, so Nathan will start to get some proper development now. We also haven't seen any combat in a bit, so how about a little of that, hmm?

You know, it never really clicked with me that the Ylisse-Plegia war being almost over _definitely_ means Risen are out and about. I'm bringing this up now because those things ahead of us on the road are certainly Risen.

I can't get too good a look at them from this distance, so I can't tell what type of Risen they are. By type I don't mean myrmidon or great knight or what have you, I mean I don't know if they're Awakening style Risen or Shadows of Valentia style Risen.

Interesting thing about Risen in Shadows of Valentia, they're technically created by attaching these things called "Death Masks" to the face of corpses. You attach the death mask, and a special bug on the back face of the mask called a "thanatophage" will spread its roots inside the corpse and start to puppet it. So Risen in that game are bug-puppeted mask-wearing corpses, with the thanatophages being controlled by a sorcerer in turn by dark magic (presumably through the Death Masks).

Awakening seems to work a bit differently. Risen can be pulled randomly from the ground, like how Aversa summons those archer Risen before Emmeryn's fall, and if I recall correctly people can become Risen through infection like a zombie, though I've only seen that mentioned on the wiki and never went searching for the source info myself. I think it was mentioned in a DLC called Death's Embrace? The point is, despite the fact that Shadows of Valentia is supposed to give an origin for the Risen, if you look closely at how they work the two games have entirely different mechanics for Risen and it would be nice to know which game they correspond to so that we can better understand them. There's a big difference between fighting a zombie virus versus stopping bugs from puppeting corpses.

So, anyhow, there are Risen ahead of us. Noire went off to scout along the left side of the path a dozen minutes ago, where there are sporadic trees to hide her, and when she comes back she has a report for everyone.

"I see twenty." She whispers, despite the fact that the Risen are both upwind from us and over two miles away and definitely can't hear us. "They look like brigand corpses. Two archers, two swordsmen, the rest are axes. No armor, only furs."

"Got it. Those archers are going to have to die first. Or, I guess they're already _dead_ , so… re-die? Is that a thing?" Morgan muses. "Anyhow, I've never dealt with Risen before, or at least I don't remember dealing with them. What do I need to know?"

"They're dirt stupid unless they're being commanded by someone else." Kjelle says. "They usually just mob the closest living thing, though they have enough smarts to use their weapons. Generally speaking the more combat experience the original person had, the more the Risen does, though to a significantly lesser degree unless they're being commanded. You probably won't see _any_ tactics from these ones."

"Chieftains are a problem." Nah adds. "Some Risen seem to lead the others. We don't know exactly how it happens, but it's usually whoever was an actual leader when they were alive."

"What do chieftains do?" Morgan prods.

"They can call for reinforcements for one." Kjelle growls. "And they're responsible for what little sense of tactics a Risen pack might have. A pack without it's chieftain wouldn't notice a flank attack, even an extremely obvious one, until it was right on top of them."

"Okay…" Morgan mutters. She's jotting this down in her notebook. "So the chieftain is going to have to die first along with the archers, if there is one. Anything else?"

I speak up, addressing everyone but Morgan. "I have a question, do the terms Death Mask or Thanatophage mean anything to you three?"

"Nope."

"N-No."

"Nah."

"Ah." I grimace. "Also, do Risen infect people?"

"Not _usually_." Noire mumbles. "I-In our time, Risen were… varied. Laurent thinks it was mostly because some powerful sorcerers had done experiments to make them stronger, with a bunch of different results. There were certain Risen that could infect, but usually not. I don't think standard Risen like these can do that."

"Got it." Well that could be significant or totally worthless depending on how much I want to hinge on that tiny kernel of "not usually". Awakening Risen are (presumably) supposed to infect people, so if they usually can't that would suggest these are Valentia style Risen, though at the same time none of the girls know what thanatophages or Death Masks are, so I really can't be sure.

"More game stuff?" Morgan asks. "Anything we can use?"

"Unfortunately not." I admit. "I need to narrow some things down, and it's not going to have much battlefield application either way."

"Ah, shame." Morgan mutters. "Okay, so, we have a bit of a problem. Remember those bandits we killed before?"

"The one where I pretended I was a slave owner?" I ask.

"Yeah, that one. Remember how I blew up, like, five bandits at once."

"With Elfire? Yep. Super hot." I joke.

Morgan's mouth twitches to smile, though she swiftly gets it under control. Right, serious time, I shouldn't be joking. "Yeah that… it only really worked because all those trees funneled the bandits into a small area, and they were too stupid to split up. The Risen are on wide open terrain, so my magic is going to be a lot less useful."

"Maybe we can pick some off?" Noire offers. "I-I can get around their flank and shoot a few before everyone else starts to fight."

"The Risen might focus on you then." Kjelle warns. "And we won't be able to get to you in time to help."

"I'm fast." Noire says. "I-I can run for long enough to survive."

"You're all making this too complicated." Nah huffs. " _I'll_ take the lead. They won't be able to do much to me."

Yeah, fair point. Nah is a dragon after all. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth to just ignore the problem of not knowing how to deal with the Risen otherwise just because we have a kill button on our side. "Out of curiosity, how did you guys usually deal with Risen when you didn't have Nah around?"

"We tried to avoid them." Kjelle admits. "Or we'd hole up between some buildings where I could block everything while everyone else shot over my shoulders."

"And if you had to fight in the open?"

"We created terrain with Laurent." Kjelle said. "Making large walls of fire to force Risen to go where we wanted them to. That was usually just so we could run to somewhere safer though. We tried to avoid open-field combat."

Well that's not very useful or reassuring. Then again, maybe I'm asking too much. Kjelle wasn't the tactician anyways, and we _do_ have a usable kill button so it's nothing to worry about. I just… I like knowing we have a backup plan, or that we could handle this without our overwhelming advantage. I don't like the thought that we'd be dead meat without Nah.

Maybe not dead meat, we'd just go around, but still. It's unsettling. This isn't like the game where every single character might as well be a one-man army if you give them a bit of investment. If you want a one-man army, you better have a manakete or else you're out of luck.

Probably. Again, I'm not familiar with this world. Maybe mages are actually one-man armies as well. I don't know. You know, at this point I'm pretty sure I'm distracting myself with theoretics and whatnot just to keep myself calm. Better to not think about the fact that I might be getting a lot closer to zombies then I ever cared to be in less than an hour.

"I should be able to deal with all of them on my own, but they might come to you as well." Nah warns. "So be ready."

"Alright." Morgan says. "There's a lot of distance between them and us, so we should be fine."

" _Famous last words._ " I think, followed quickly by " _I really hope they aren't her last words._ "

Logically I don't have to be worried. The girls (minus Morgan) have fought Risen before, and Morgan is extremely competent either way, but I'm still nervous. I don't care if we'll _probably_ be fine, I still don't want to be putting my life in danger.

"Just in case, I want Kjelle up front though." Morgan instructs. "If they get too close, I want the three of us-" she points to herself, Noire, and me "-to set up a concave and fire in projectiles on the Risen while Kjelle holds their attention."

"Okay." Noire squeaks.

There's quiet for a moment, and it occurs to me that I'm probably supposed to agree too. "Oh, uh, yeah. Concave. Got it."

Kjelle has an expression on her face that makes it clear she's not thrilled at the idea of _me_ watching her back to any extent, and that's fair because I really don't think I'm going to be doing much.

So Nah flies off to go roast some Risen (do manaketes breath fire? Is it normal fire? Special dragon fire?) while the rest of us set up in case the Risen come to attack us. Kjelle stands out in front, Noire to the right, Morgan to the left, and me directly behind her.

" _I'm going to accidentally shoot Kjelle in the back._ " I think. " _Crossbows shoot in a straight line_. _I guess I can shoot it in an arc, but isn't that going to be less effective?_ "

I can worry about it later. It doesn't matter. I'm not really expected to do much. It's just a formality to have me in position in the first place. At least, that's what I tell myself so as not to panic about the situation.

You know, dealing with combat was a lot easier when I was still fairly certain I was in a coma. It's easy to ignore paralyzing fear when you think you're dreaming and there are no consequences to your actions.

A distant howl reaches my ears, sounding like a mix between a wolf's cry and a gargle, and I pull my gaze from my crossbow back to the road.

"I think they noticed her a bit early." Morgan warns. I can see Nah in her dragon form spitting out balls of blue-green "fire" at the Risen, but the majority of the Risen are charging at _us_ and ignoring Nah completely. "I think they like us."

"They always do this." Kjelle groans. She readies her spear and shield. "I don't know how they know to ignore fliers if they can't hit them. It's so annoying. I didn't think these ones would be smart enough for that."

"That would have been nice to know." Morgan barks. "Tell me that next time!"

Nah thins the ranks of the Risen before they get close to us, but we're still left with ten or so to deal with by the time they're in range for Noire to start shooting. The archers and the chieftain are gone, but there are still a bunch of shambling- well, _running-_ zombies coming at us.

Noire calmly draws and fires her bow, and Morgan prepares a spell with no real rush. While a bit irritated at Kjelle not offering up the information earlier, Morgan doesn't exactly seem _worried_ about our situation.

" _Morgan is calm. That's good. We're fine then._ " I tell myself. " _Morgan would know if something is wrong. We're fine._ "

I know my crossbow doesn't have as long a range as Noire's bow, so I wait until Morgan starts using elfire before I launch my first shot.

I was aiming at the foremost Risen, but I'm not used to firing in an arc so my shot falls pitifully short. I can also see just how much slower it is to reload my crossbow than shoot another shot from Noire's bow, as she's firing easily three times faster than me. It takes me the same amount of time to shoot my crossbow as Morgan to launch a spell.

I eventually find my range, though my shots are still painfully inaccurate. I don't know if it's wind, something wrong with my arrows or bow, something wrong with my technique, or some combination of the three that makes my shots miss their target so often.

Or it might be my shaking arms. Adrenaline is _not_ helpful when you're doing precision work.

The Risen fall consistently. One, then another, then another, then another. Usually it's to Nah, sometimes to Morgan, and more rarely to Noire. There's only two left by the time Kjelle makes contact. One is sniped by Noire through the head, and the other runs itself onto Kjelle's spear point with little fanfare.

For all my worry, the Risen were a non-issue. We don't have a scratch on us. Of course I worked myself into a panic for nothing. I let out a long breath and lower my crossbow.

"Next time, I'll thank you to give me _all_ the information beforehand." Morgan huffs. "Otherwise, good job everyone. Nice shooting Noire."

"Th-Thank you…"

"You were awesome Nah."

"Of course I was." Nah says pridefully. She's still in dragon form, hovering over our heads.

"Kjelle… you did something."

"Yeah yeah." Kjelle scoffs.

"Good job Nathan."

Notably, she didn't add specific praise. She knows full well I didn't do much and is being polite. Still, I appreciate the thought. "Thanks."

Nah untransforms a few feet above the ground and lands in human form in what has to be a practiced move. Our weapons are put away, and (with gloves on for safety) the girls search the bodies… or more specifically the clothes and weapons, as the bodies dissolved into purple dust when they die. They scrounge a few copper and some arrows, but nothing else of use.

We walk a mile past the Risen's original location. The others are already calm, apparently having forgotten the fight already. The only sign of it ever happening is my lasting nervousness and Morgan's arm though mine on my left side as reassurance.

The calmness of everyone else is probably why I'm the only person who notices a wheezing noise mixing with the wind, and why I turn my head to the left and see a Risen rushing out from behind a cluster of trees with three more trailing behind it, all armed with old rusted pitchforks and dressed in farmer's garb.

It's a cliche to say, but everything does seem to happen in slow motion. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. I shriek out something along the lines of "Morgan!" and instinctively push her behind me before fumbling for a weapon. My hands go to my crossbow, I think better of it, then I wrench my axe from it's holster with enough force to snap the restraint.

Any thoughts of the weapon triangle or even basic battle tactics are completely out the window right now. I didn't have time to prepare like the other fights I've been in so far, there's no coherent thought or plan going into this. I know that Risen are in front of me and Morgan is behind me, and with that primitive understanding of the situation I come to the questionable conclusion that me moving out of the way means Morgan getting run through with a rusty pitchfork.

I don't have the element of surprise to bury my axe in someone's back like that first fight with the slavers, and I'm not acting as bait to delay for someone else to take action like the second fight with the bandits. This time, I'm standing directly in the path of four Risen with a significantly shorter range axe and no battle plan.

The result is predictable.

The thrust of the pitchfork is clumsy, but my attempt to hook the shaft with my axe is even more so and the points of the tool find purchase in my shoulder and I drop my weapon from muscle spasms and pain.

It's only by the miracle of everyone else's lightning reflexes that no more damage is done. Before the Risen striking me can even retract his weapon he's obliterated by a blast of electricity, and the others are done in by a hail of arrows, dragonfire, and a few well-placed spear thrusts. The whole "battle" takes maybe five seconds, but somehow those four Risen farmers did more damage than the whole twenty-man Risen brigand group.

Kjelle shouts something, and I can hear Nah flapping her wings somewhere above me, but I'm not paying attention. I'm still looking around for more Risen and frantically scooping up my axe with my off-hand, and I nearly trip over my own feet while doing so. When something touches my back, I twist around so quickly that I almost hurt myself and put my axe up between me and my presumed attacker.

There's no attackers left, obviously. The person who put their hand on my back is just Morgan. Her reflexes are also a lot better than mine, so my axe handle is parried and my arm grabbed before I even get in position.

"Nathan." She says calmly, while keeping a firm grip on my forearm. "It's over."

"W-We just got attacked out of nowhere!" I protest, and continue to look around for more signs of trouble despite being restrained. "I noticed first! You don't know that it's over!"

"Do you see more Risen?" Morgan asks, still very calm.

"Not at the moment, but that doesn't mean there aren't more!"

"Nathan." She says firmly. "Kjelle and Noire are paying attention now. Relax."

"Let me have my axe." I counter. She's still holding my arm, which is holding my axe. I'm not going to risk that being taken from me.

To my surprise, she does so. I was honestly expecting her to insist I relax before she released me, like a proper patronizing parent who doesn't bother to see things from the other person's perspective and thinks that _obviously_ they must be right. I really should give Morgan more credit.

I don't put my axe away, but I do lower it as I verify that, yes, Kjelle and Noire _are_ in fact watching out for Risen. Only then do I reluctantly put the axe down (not away, just on the ground) and sit in the dirt and take a moment to put my head between my legs and wrap my arms around myself and try not to vomit.

I've always had drastic overreactions to injury. It's rather annoying actually, because there's usually some dissonance between what I feel emotionally and what my body is doing. I can be calm, recognizing the injury is minor and unimportant, but my body will decide "nope, fuck you, you're having a panic attack" and even though I'm totally calm otherwise I have to sit down and wait for it to be over. It's honestly more of an irritation to have a panic attack rather than something that's actually scary or worrying. It's not unusual for me to have completely calm, normal conversations with someone else right in the middle of panic attacks because emotionally I'm _fine_ and I'm just waiting for my body to catch up and stop freaking out.

This, sadly, is not one of those cases. This is one of the lovely cases where my emotions actually match my physical state; that's to say: panic.

I'm not fully aware of the consequences of being stabbed with a rusty pitchfork, but I know it's probably not good. There are certainly diseases and nasty infections that could result from such an injury. The pain is also starting to appear. I think my adrenaline was numbing it before.

Again, adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

"Nathan." Morgan whispers. I think she's kneeling next to me, but I don't want to turn my head to look. "You have to drink a vulnerary."

I'm not sure drinking something right now is a good idea, but I choke down a mouthful of vulnerary despite that.

"So…" Morgan says, still speaking quietly. "Remember how Kjelle mentioned that chieftains can call for reinforcements? I'm guessing that cry we heard at the start of the battle was the chieftain, and those four Risen that just attacked were other nearby Risen that heard the cry and came to help."

I nod silently, still not getting out of my position. That makes sense to me.

"We won't make that mistake in the future." Morgan murmurs. "Also, thank you for trying to protect me, even though it didn't turn out so well."

'Didn't turn out so well' is an understatement. I'm our first injury of this whole adventure, and it was because of my own incompetence. I could have backed off and let everyone else obliterate the Risen, but instead I let impulse get the best of me. That's what I get for ignoring logic and tactics and letting adrenaline guide my actions.

"Why couldn't this fight be like the other ones?" I whisper. "I didn't freak out after those."

"You also thought you were in a coma the first fight, and didn't really have time to worry about the second encounter before it started." Morgan offers.

"Don't make excuses for me." I mumble. "I'm handling this worse."

"As long as you save your worry for _after_ the fight and not during, it's really not a problem Nathan." Morgan reassures. I can feel her hands on my back, rubbing in circles to comfort me.

It only takes a minute for my panic to subside, and I can stand again after that (albeit on shaky legs). No one else comments, and Morgan clings to arm for the entire rest of the day.

My injury is gone within the hour, and the only sign I got it in the first place are the holes in my clothes and a blood stain or two.

###

"Careful." Noire frets as I weave the needle in and out of the fabric. I feel like I'm focusing more than I ever have before on not stabbing myself by accident. This is probably why people wear thimbles.

I'm learning to sew, to some extent at least. I have my shirt laid out on a table, and I'm trying to do my first repair with Noire's guidance. I'm actually wearing Morgan's coat at the moment (she still has an undershirt) so I don't have to be topless while repairing my shirt.

Morgan's coat is _heavy_! I know it's because she has tomes and dozens of other things in here, but I have to wonder how she can stand to wear this all the time. Her poor shoulders. How is she not complaining about aches all the time?

"S-So now you want to push the needle all the way through to the inside." Noire whispers. "A-And then you want to knot it."

I follow her instructions as best I can. It's hard with these large sausage fingers this body has. My old body was skinny and boney, and so were my fingers, so I imagine I could get more precision with them than right now due to size. "Okay, now what?"

"Pull on the knot." Noire murmurs. "Not too hard. You want the knot to be sliding down the thread as you do. You want the tear to be invisible once you're done. You shouldn't even be able to see the repair thread on the outside."

It takes a minute to find the right amount of force as I gradually increase the strength I'm using, but eventually I achieve what I'm supposed to.

"Now make another knot for safety, pull it tight, and cut the thread on the inside just after it." Noire murmurs. "And you're done."

And just like that, one of the holes in my shirt is mended. It took a few minutes, but honestly not nearly as long as I expected. I always thought sewing was this painfully slow process where you had to take thirty minutes to fix even the simplest of tears. This fix took maybe seven minutes, and that was mostly because I'm slow and it's literally the first time I've ever done this.

The next two holes take a shorter time to repair as Noire doesn't have to walk me through every step. Everything is fixed up rather quickly.

"Thanks Noire." I say.

"I-It's fine."

I quickly slip back into my shirt and hand Morgan back her coat. I also say "how does wearing this not hurt your shoulders?"

"Because I have muscle!" Morgan chirps. She flexes an arm and pats her shoulder. "See?"

"Yeah yeah." It's still so weird to think of Morgan having _muscle_. Maybe it's her soft, childish face that makes the muscles seem so out of place to me. "Brains and brawn at the same time? That has to be illegal."

"I'm already illegal in other ways." Morgan quips.

"...is that a joke about you looking underage?"

"Yes." She says unabashedly.

You have a dark sense of humor Morgan. Then again, I guess I also have that sense of humor considering how often I indulge you. "That says a lot about me then, considering you are the prize of my collection."

"I'm just going to go…" Noire whispers, and moves to the door.

"Thanks Noire!" I say, and wave at her. She nods timidly and ducks out into the hallway.

"We'll get her to join in some day!" Morgan proclaims.

"Don't count on it. Roleplay isn't for everyone." I say.

"A girl can dream!" Morgan says. "Dream about being the pampered centerpiece of a prestigious collection! Because there's nothing sketchy about that!"

"Pampered?" I ask. "I've been failing my duties in that case. I'm going to need a significant bump in income to be able to pamper anyone."

"Is this your way of asking for money?"

"No, it's my way of acknowledging I need a job." I say. "Be patient with me, treasure, I'll have your gilded cage soon."

"Will it have a golden table master?" Morgan simpers.

"Of course my dear, anything for my most prized asset." I chuckle. I go so far as doing that chin-lift thing. The one you see villains do, where they grab some woman's chin with their thumb and pointer and lift it up so that the woman is looking them in the eye. "Because you are oh so loyal to me, aren't you _dear_?"

"Yes Sir." Morgan says, trying to act meek. It doesn't really work because of the wide grin on her face. She's having too much fun to properly act timid. "You have all my love master!"

 _That_ sounds like something straight out of a hentai, and Morgan said it with any sort of hesitance. Her absolute shamelessness never ceases to amaze me. "You'd be a fantastic actor if you could stop yourself from smiling so much Morgan."

"I'll have to settle for just being amazing then." Morgan sighs. "Not fantastic, just amazing, how very sad."

"What a travesty." I say, and pat her on the shoulder in consolation. "We can probably solve that by bribing critics though. Then they'll say you're fantastic."

"Once again bribery solves everything!" Morgan proclaims.

"Your father is going to love all these valuable lessons I'm teaching you." I tease. "Bribery and subservience. Valuable skills for any young woman."

"Yeah!" Morgan chirps. "What's this 'honesty' stuff? Thinking for myself? Never heard of it!"

"You are safe and comfortable under the thumb of someone else, _as you should be_." I say with an appropriate amount of evil in my tone. I even creepily stroke her hair, just to add to the effect. "My lovely, pliable little toy…"

Morgan can't hold character and begins giggling again, and I quickly follow suit.

"I can't believe you can say some of those things with a straight face." I say, after catching my breath.

"Says the person pretending to groom me." Morgan teases. "You're normally shy, yet you don't hesitate to put your hands on me when we're acting."

"I- well-" I fidget nervously. "It's part of the act, right? So-"

"I'm not _complaining_ , I'm just making an observation." Morgan chirps. "By all means, touch me more!"

"Phrasing Morgan."

She sticks her tongue out. "I know exactly what I'm saying. By the way, I've got a question."

"What's up?"

"Do you know what my dad is going to think of me?" Morgan asks. "Or, at least, do you know how our first talk goes?"

"Well…" I pause to think. "Your first conversation in the game usually happens at the temple where I found you, so that's already different. He also has knowledge of future children before he meets you in the game, so that's also different."

"Ah." Morgan says. "So you have no idea?"

"Not really." I admit. It feels like a loss to say there. Here I have an opportunity to help Morgan, and all I can do is shrug and say I don't know. "At the very least I can tell you that no parent in the game ever rejects their kid. Some of them are suspicious at first, but there's never any rejection. Worst come to worst, you have to wait for Lucina to reveal herself. I don't think you're in any danger of permanent rejection."

"That's something at least." Morgan sighs. "I'm just… I'm worried my story is a bit too unbelievable, and that I'm a bit of a disappointment. Selective amnesia? Really? And all I do is play board games? Not something _useful_?"

"I think you grossly overestimate how much is going to be expected of you, and grossly underestimate how much you already do." I say. "And where's your usual confidence?"

"Well it's my _father_." Morgan frets. "And mother too. I can't just be great for them, I have to be _perfect_."

"Morgan…" I say.

"I know it's ridiculous, but it's my parents!" Morgan says. "It's not wrong to want to present myself in my best light, right?"

"You're already amazing. It's just a matter if Robin and Olivia see it or not." I say. "Simple as that. You do enough already."

"You're biased, you're my boyfriend." Morgan huffs, though she doesn't seem to be actually annoyed.

"Well sure, but you're biased against yourself because these are your parents." I say, and poke her on the forehead. "If your father is anywhere as awesome as you think he is, this won't be an issue."

"But do you _know_ that?"

"Well unless your idea of an awesome father includes someone who won't approve of his daughter's _mere_ accomplishments in being a genius tactician and skilled board-game player, then you'll be fine as long as he's even remotely close to your mental image." I offer. "Besides, this is a world with magic. I'm sure some 'destiny' bullshit will ensure it goes well regardless."

Morgan cracks a smile. "That's the most reassuring thing you've said so far."

"Fuck you too." I grumble. "I'm trying to help here."

"And you did." Morgan says. "Thanks."

"Yeah yeah…"

###

"I'm sorry, wait, repeat that."

"There are forty four letters in the Ylissian alphabet." Morgan says again. "Does your alphabet not have that?"

"No. The English alphabet has twenty six."

"Only twenty six? That's not even a letter for most sounds!" Morgan says.

"Well yeah. All vowels have two sounds, and some sounds are designated by combinations of letters." I say.

"That sounds complicated."

"It… yeah, I guess. I wouldn't really know if it's complicated or not though. It's my native language, so the difficulty is a bit lost on me." I admit. "How do you remember _forty four_ letters though? That's so many!"

"It's not! Yours just has too few!"

"Says you!"

"Says me!"

"Well you're wrong!"

"How _dare_ you!" Morgan gasps.

"I dare!" I say, followed by. "But I'm surprised the Ylissian alphabet isn't symbol-based. From what I saw in your notebook and the smut book, it looked like symbols."

"What do you mean by symbols?"

"A different _thing_ for each individual word, not sound."

"That would be so many." Morgan mutters.

"It exists on Earth, like Japanese and Chinese. They use one symbol for each word… I think."

"How do they come up with new words then? Do they have to just make up a new symbol?"

"I guess so?" I frown. "I have no idea honestly. I could be wrong about how the symbols work in the first place. I never looked into it. I just know that you need to know a _lot_ of symbols to write Chinese or Japanese. I imagine Chon'sinese works like that too, if it is the Japan counterpart like it was in the game."

"Huh. Who knew?" Morgan says.

"Anyone in Chon'sin." I quip.

"Smartass."

"Hey, at least that means I'm smart." I say. Internally though, I'm dreading what forty-four letters means for me trying to learn the language. I suppose it was too much to hope that there would be a nice one-to-one translation. I'm going to have to figure out some way to write what Ylissian letter means what in English.

Fun times; and by that I mean it's going to be no fun at all.

###

Ylisse has a Risen problem. In the week we've been in this country we've come across three separate packs of Risen, and that's not counting that small farmer group as its own thing.

On the bright(?) side, I actually managed to get two kills with my crossbow in our most recent fight. I'm starting to suspect some of my accuracy problems lie with the crossbow and the bolts and not my aim, because even with a steady hand the shots are often off-center. Still, a steady hand _does_ help the accuracy to some extent.

Adrenaline is still a bitch though. I can't get it under control.

"I have to wonder." I say, after our most recent fight is over and Nah has scouted and not spotted any reinforcements. "If Ylisse has more Risen than other countries."

"Wouldn't surprise me." Morgan muses. "After all, Risen are mostly going to be summoned by Plegia, right? So of course they'd target Ylisse and cause havoc."

"How many Risen packs are from sorcerers and how many are passively generated from Grima's power?" I question.

"Don't know, don't care." Kjelle huffs. "We'll kill them all the same."

"But are we really _killing_ them, or are we destroying them?" Morgan jokes. "You know, because they're already dead?"

"Har-har." Kjelle huffs.

"I wonder if we could control Risen ourselves…" I muse. "Ylisse could probably benefit from free zombie soldiers."

"That's a downright heretical suggestion." Kjelle warns. "Don't let anyone else hear you say that."

Ah, I guess I should have expected that. "Let me guess. Ylisse has something against dark magic."

"Of course it does. It's evil." Kjelle scoffs, as if that should be obvious.

"Oh _that_ bullshit." I smile. "It's a religious thing, isn't it?"

"Of course the church condemns dark mages." Kjelle says, like that should be obvious. "Dark magic and dark mages have been plagues on Ylisse as long as history can remember!"

"Mmm-hmm." I hum, feeling amused. "Suuure. Totally not because of unjustified prejudice."

"You don't know Ylisse's history." Kjelle sneers.

"I don't need to. This is extremely blatant." I say. This isn't something I will back down on. This is so obviously wrong that I'm surprised Kjelle doesn't see it. I know Kjelle is a bit of a narrow-minded idiot, but this seems so blatant I'm disappointed I have to explain it. "I shouldn't even have to explain this Kjelle, and you should know history can be horribly biased depending on who is writing it."

"Don't give me that." Kjelle says. "You're otherworldly wisdom isn't right, or _wanted_ , Nathan."

My smile is intentionally mocking; vicious even. "So you're a discriminatory asshole by choice? Good to know. Somehow I'm not surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kjelle growls.

"I'm saying you're intentionally choosing to ignore logic in favor of stubbornly, uncritically clinging to whatever garbage your religion throws your way." I say. "Stubborn and uncritical. Your two standout traits. Very fitting."

"You're making a lot of assumptions about me right now." Kjelle warns.

"Am I wrong?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "If I am, please, enlighten me. If you have some valid logical or scientific reason to believe that dark magic and dark mages are inherently evil, I'd love to hear it and will rescind my earlier comments."

"Dark mages are always nasty. Even Tharja is nasty and she's a Shepherd." Kjelle says. "And dark magic is fueled by rage and all sorts of negative emotion. You become skilled at dark magic by being a bad person."

So here's the question. Do I believe what Noire told me about dark magic, or do I believe Kjelle? I'm inclined to believe Noire just because her explanation seems more realistic and fleshed-out and-

Wait. Why are Kjelle and Noire's accounts of dark magic different? Has this topic just never come up? I want to mention this, but I also don't want to drag Noire into a conversation she might not want to have. What to do…?

"The church condemns dark magic for its corrupting influence, and for the necessity of its practitioners being evil!" Kjelle proclaims confidently. "For Naga would never wish for such a vile method of power to exist!"

Does she actually think Naga is a goddess? I guess she either didn't listen or didn't care that I've mentioned Naga is _not_ a goddess on multiple occasions. I also wouldn't have pegged Kjelle to be a zealot. Who knew?

I also make the decision to go with Noire's explanation of dark magic, mostly because it's more fleshed-out. If something so complex is being presented in such simple, black-and-white terms, that's usually a sign the person in question doesn't actually know anything about what they're talking about and are just repeating what they've heard.

Sometimes, not always. I also can't blame Kjelle too much because it's probably hard to do research in this world, and even more so in the ruined future.

"You do know dark magic is just based on emotion, not necessarily negative emotion, right…?" I ask slowly.

"Well, negative emotion is the primary emotion." Kjelle says defensively.

"Fair enough." I conceded. "But you know negative emotion isn't _bad_ right?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She scoffs. "Of _course_ it is."

"So anger is bad?"

"Of course."

"So when you get angry over your friend getting hurt, you're a bad person." I say. "Right?"

"Well no."

"But anger is bad."

"Yes."

"So anger is bad, but being angry isn't bad?"

"Hold on a second." Kjelle interrupts. "You're ignoring context."

"Do tell."

"Using anger to fuel a _spell_ is bad."

"Why?"

"Because anger is bad." Kjelle says, exasperated.

"But is being angry bad?" I question. "This is important."

"Being angry to fuel a spell is bad, but in other cases it's fine." Kjelle clarifies.

"Okay." I say. "So, following that logic, it's fine for me to use my anger to justify beating my wife then, right? After all, it's only using anger to fuel a spell that's bad."

"Of course not! That's bad too!" Kjelle barks. "Are you a fool?"

"I'm speaking in theoretics here Kjelle." I soothe. "Just to make sure all your points are properly articulated. So, let me ask: what _exactly_ makes a use of anger bad or evil?"

"When it is used to fuel an inherently evil thing, like dark magic."

"And what makes dark magic inherently evil?"

"Because it takes anger and negative emotion as fuel."

"See, that's circular logic." I point out. "You're using a thing to justify itself. Dark magic is bad because it uses anger, and anger is bad when used to fuel dark magic. There's no _reason_ for this beyond something arbitrary you've chosen to say. Your premises are your conclusions. So maybe this will help. What makes something bad?"

"That's a stupid quesition." Kjelle sneers. "How can you possibly expect me to cover everything?"

"I don't need examples, I need rules. What exactly makes something bad or evil?" I press. I'm going straight into philosophical debate here. Gotta use my degree for something, might as well be for this.

"Something is evil when it has negative effects." Kjelle says.

"Okay." I say. I could dig deeper and question what a negative effect is, but that's unnecessary for the current debate. "So something is evil when it has negative effects. Like spousal abuse, or assassination, or anything awful like that.

"Exactly."

"So, would you agree with the statement that anger is evil when it is used to create or fuel negative effects? Anger used as justification to terrorize one's kids, for example."

"Absolutely." Kjelle nods.

"What about when anger is used for self improvement?" I ask. "When I am angry at myself for failure, and I use that to push myself to improve. Is that evil?"

"No."

"Okay then, so for spells…" I say slowly. "If I power a spell with anger, and use it to destroy a village, that's evil."

"Clearly."

"What if I use anger to power a dark magic spell to destroy an oncoming boulder that would crush a house?" I ask. "Same spell, same emotion, different ends."

"I- no." Kjelle frowns. "That doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't it? I'm using _your_ premises Kjelle." I say. "Something is evil only when it has negative effects. Therefore, at best, dark magic is _usually_ evil but is not always, as there are non-evil uses for it. Strictly speaking, we should be saying that certain motives are evil, as it is motives that drive actions that cause results, and dark magic is only a tool to achieve that end."

"You're twisting my words." Kjelle accuses. "You're trying to trick me."

"I am not." I say. "I simply investigated _your own_ ideas and came to a logical conclusion, and you agreed with every step."

Kjelle's glare could boil water. I think she's mad that I'm right. It probably doesn't help that I'm being smug about it.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to like dark magic, and it _does_ seem like it could easily lead to negative behaviour." I offer. "Just don't judge an entire group of people by the tools they use. That would be like disliking anyone who used a shovel because the church told you shovels were bad."

"Fine." Kjelle snaps. "Just shut up. I don't want to hear your voice anymore."

Ouch, but okay. At least my point is made. Religious bullshit made things harder than it should have been. Though I'm admittedly predisposed to dislike religion. There are so many problems with it I don't even want to start… or, well, I _do_ want to start, but I won't. This isn't the place or time for a rant.

It's also weird to win. I never won arguments back on Earth. I'll relish this for now, I don't expect it to happen often.

###

"Are those pegasus knights?" I mutter. "Those are pegasus knights, right?"

"Yes." Noire murmurs.

"Surprised we haven't come across them before." Kjelle says. "They're Ylisse's main federal force. At least in our time, it was mainly their responsibility to deal with Risen packs because they could actually reach them in time."

"I guess the knights and cavaliers were the secondary force for that because they're also fast?" I say.

"It doesn't exactly work that way." Kjelle says. "Did your games not tell you about Ylisse's military structure?"

"Nope. I only know that Ylisse was known for pegasus knights."

"Well, let me explain." Kjelle says with a smug smile. I think she's using this as payback for me making a fool of her yesterday. Whatever. As long as I get the information. "So, you know about duchies, right?"

"Large areas of land ruled by dukes."

"Exactly." Kjelle says. "So Ylisse is divided up into a bunch of duchies. The duchy of Themis or Admetus for example. The royal family also controls a duchy in addition to more general control over the country."

"All right." I nod. "I get it so far."

"Every duke has their own army." Kjelle continues. "Depending on the duke, the composition can differ. Themis is famous for it's valkyries, for example, and Admetus is the only duchy in Ylisse to train axemasters. Most duchies forgo axes altogether."

I wonder if "axemaster" means warrior or berserker in game terms. "Okay…"

"However, each duke is also expected to contribute a certain number of troops towards Ylisse as a whole." Kjelle says. "Troops for the country to use rather than just the dukes, so to speak. It would be unfair to put the whole burden on the royal family, though due to occupying the most heavily populated area of Ylisse the royal family does contribute more troops to the realm than other areas."

"Where do those troops go?"

"They stay with the duke for the most part." Kjelle says. "The dukes are still responsible for feeding and housing the troops they contribute, and under most circumstances they can use those troops as normal troops because Ylisse does not usually have reason to call upon those troops. It's only when there is a significant problem elsewhere that the troops a duke ows Ylisse will actually be called upon by the country."

"So these troops that are owed to Ylisse _technically_ answer to the country before the duke, but since Ylisse doesn't often give orders they mostly just act as part of the duke's standing force?"

"Exactly." Kjelle says.

"So what does this have to do with pegasus knights?"

"Pegasus knights are unique in that Ylisse's pegasus core technically serves _Ylisse_ , not any specific duke nor even the royal family. A duke can have their own pegasus knights that they trained themselves, but the main pegasus core are Ylisse's troops alone. That's why most of the troops a duke owe's Ylisse don't need to be called upon, because when there's a problem that the country needs to address it's the pegasus knights that are sent first, and only if they can't deal with the problem are the rest of Ylisse's troops called upon."

So pegasus knights are strictly federal troops unless a duke has invested into training his own. Interesting. It seems unusual to me to know that each individual duchy, basically a province or state, has its own standing army rather than all troops being federal, but whatever. This is a different time period. "Aren't Risen more than just Ylisse's problem though?"

"Of course." Kjelle snorts. "But unlike the dukes, who might have other problems, Risen are a clear threat to the country as a whole, ergo the pegasus knights would deal with them specifically."

Interesting. Pegasus knights seem like a good choice for federal troops too. They have the mobility to get all around the country like no other type of troop, especially because I doubt Ylisse has as much of any other type of flier. Wyverns are Plegia's thing, and griffons are just downright rare in the whole game from what I remember seeing.

The pegasus knights are a fair ways off, but are moving in our direction. They're actually sort of hard to spot with the pegasi's white wings against the white and blue sky. If it weren't for the flaps of their wings they'd be indistinguishable from clouds from a distance.

We travel for about twenty minutes, watching the pegasus knights get closer and closer. I couldn't pinpoint how many of them there were before, but now that they're closer I can see there is a squad of about a dozen knights, all spread out over a wide area. Sometimes one knight will do a low, sweeping pass of the farmland around them. I'd bet they're looking for something.

And something they find, judging by how they all congregate in the same spot and then make a coordinated dive towards something obscured by a barn. Our group is a dozen minutes away at marching speed, so we all pick up our pace and draw our weapons. Apparently our decision to help is unanimous.

We don't hesitate to jump the farmer's fence and dash towards the other side of the barn. Maybe we scare a few cows, but whatever. Not a big deal.

I also underestimated how nimble Kjelle is in her armor. She climbs over that fence just as fast as the rest of us.

To my surprise, the fight isn't over by the time we get over to where the pegasus knights are, and that's because there's a _lot_ of Risen. I stop counting after twenty, and that's not even half of them… and that's not counting the ones the pegasus knights have probably killed already.

I'm glad we didn't run into this group on our own. We might have been able to deal with twenty Risen, but fifty plus would be a bit too much. These look like a combination of brigands, farmers, and soldiers. I wonder if they used to be a bunch of smaller groups that found each other and became one big group.

Or maybe one group called for reinforcements, the others came running, and they killed their attackers and stuck together. That's a morbid consideration.

Nah transforms and we rush to fight. The pegasus knights all startle at the sudden appearance of a goddamned dragon, but recover from their shock quickly and resume their work.

There are so many Risen that my shots basically can't miss. All I have to do is be sure to aim low so my shots don't go high and accidentally hit a pegasus knight.

I think the pegasus knights have already dealt with the chieftain, hence why our group which is on the ground while all the pegasus knights are in the air isn't instantly mobbed by all the remaining Risen. There are a bunch of Risen futility trying to swipe at the diving knights to predictably little effect.

Kjelle wades into the middle of the Risen without any sort of fear. Her armor blocks axes and spears and pitchforks alike without much of an issue. I remember learning that full plate armor was a total wall to basic melee attacks, though with the help of a horse for momentum or a pickaxe or hammer you could probably deal serious damage to full plate. Also, arrows punch right through it for the most part. The power behind arrows is not insignificant.

So anyhow, against these simple melee attacks Kjelle's armor walls all damage.

For the most part I'm not aiming my shots. I don't need to. The combined force of the pegasus knights and our squad, mostly Nah and Morgan courtesy of her magic, chew through the Risen numbers rapidly. Risen really are trivial to deal with even in such large numbers. These would be more threatening if they were bandits or something.

I say that like they wouldn't totally annihilate us if they had any semblance of tactics. This is only working because they're running around incoherently and randomly switching targets.

It still takes a good ten minutes to deal with the rest of the Risen. After there are too few for us to safely keep shooting, me, Morgan, and Noire step back and let the pegasus knights and Kjelle handle the rest.

So, pegasus knights look almost exactly like they do in the game, though with grieves on their lower legs and armored skirts to protect their thighs rather than having bare thighs or just stockings like in the games. Though, oddly enough… so you know female Corrin's outfit and how it has the thighs exposed only on the inside of the legs? Yeah, the pegasus knights have _that_ for some reason. I wonder if there's actually logic around that. They also don't have full saddles, they just have the main seat part and not the flaps on the side, so their thighs are actually in contact with the fur which seems _supremely_ uncomfortable and unsafe. That has to chafe like hell, right? There must be a reason for it.

It's not exactly something I can ask the pegasus knights about though. We all know how that would go. I'll just wait and ask Morgan or Kjelle or something… or maybe Cynthia, because she's actually a pegasus knight. Though I suppose Sumia or Cordelia could answer that question too.

The pegasus knights swiftly gather up the leftovers of the Risen (the clothes, weapons, personal belongings and whatnot) and haul them out of the farmland to the side of the road. I can see a few pegasus knights taking out shovels too. A burial, albeit without bodies. While some of the knights are doing that, another of them, the leader I assume by the gold colored armor whereas the others have silver, approaches us.

"Thank you for the assistance, travellers." The woman says, in what I think is a Russian accent. The only character I know in the game that has an accent like that is Gregor. I wonder if that has any significance. All the villagers in Ylisse so far sure don't speak like that. She's almost as tall as me, has slightly tanned skin, long dark-green hair, and hazel eyes. "There are not many people willing to put themselves in danger to help soldiers."

"Because that's _your_ job." Morgan quips. "It was no problem! Happy to help! We've been dealing with Risen packs ever since we got off the boat two weeks ago, and it seems like the situation is a bit out of control. If we can cut their numbers a bit, we'll eagerly take part."

"How many packs have you run into?" The woman asks. "I am supposed to keep track as best I can."

"We've dealt with five packs of varying sizes." Morgan says. "Twenty four, seven, ten, sixteen, and fourteen."

"Hmm…" The woman frowns. "Thank you for the information. Additionally, I must ask… are you a dark mage?"

Huh, I didn't think that was going to be asked outright. Apparently so.

"Nope." Morgan chirps. "I'm just a normal mage."

"Ah, I see." She says. "Do be careful then. You are obviously Plegian, and most Ylissians are not quite fond of Plegians at the moment with the war only recently finished. The wounds are too fresh, sometimes literally."

"You aren't Ylissian either, are you?" Morgan asks. "You speak differently, and you didn't say 'my countrymen' you said 'Ylissians'."

"Very astute of you." The woman says, and nods. "I am Ylissian now, but not as a child. I arrived here when I was five." She puts a finger to her lips with a smile. "My mother is a dark mage, don't tell. That's why I asked. I know the problems that can come of it."

"My, giving away sensitive information to a stranger?" Morgan smiles. "Be careful."

"You are travellers; it is unlikely we will meet again, and it is no secret among my squad." She chuckles. "I am Vanna."

"Morgan." Morgan says. "My group is heading for Ylisstol. We have business with the Shepherds."

"Are you hopefuls? It's a high bar." Vanna warns.

"Not exactly." Morgan grins. "But I wouldn't doubt we could jump that bar if we wanted."

"Well, at least you have the confidence for it." Vanna laughs. "And if you're going to Ylisstol perhaps we _will_ meet again. Incidentally, is one of your number a manakete? I distinctly remember a dragon."

"That's me." Nah says, and inclines her head to Vanna. "I'm Nah."

"Greetings Nah." Vanna says, and actually bows from the waist. "Ylisse is always glad to see another divine dragon. A sign of good fortune no doubt."

"I am not so special." Nah says. "But I shall endeavor to bring Ylisse good fortune nonetheless."

How very formal-sounding of you Nah.

"Captain." A different pegasus knight interrupts. "The burial is complete."

"Thank you Lily. Have everyone mount up." Vanna instructs. To us, she says. "We must be off. Thank you again travellers. If you want some compensation, I'll be including you in my report to headquarters back in Ylisstol, so you can go there and request it."

"That won't be necessary." Morgan says. "But thanks."

We watch Vanna mount her pegasus. At a sharp command from her, the entire group of knights start a light trot, flares their wings in unison, and take to the air. It almost looks like a choreographed move, and maybe it is. That's another question for later I suppose.

As soon as they're gone, Morgan turns to me with a cheeky grin. "Did you see the thighs on her? Nice and toned."

"Of course that's the first thing you'd say." I sigh. "I thought _I_ was supposed to be the one sarcastically degrading women."

"Pfft, I can do that on my own!" Morgan says cheerfully. "And who said anything about sarcasm? Those are some nice legs! Also, degrading? That was a compliment!"

"Calm your hormones Sylvain." I snort, and pat her on the head. "You might want to wait until we're in Ylisstol until you devolve into bad pickup lines and failed dates. That way you can maximize your chances of offending someone important."

"You know, for a moment there I thought you were going to _dissuade_ me from being lewd, but that sounds like encouragement to me!" Morgan says. "Is this your way of giving me permission to mess with people when we get to Ylisstol!?"

"I'm pretty sure you were going to do that anyway."

"You know me so well!"

"At least make sure to steal something when you inevitably offend someone rich." I say. "Might as well make sure their offense is justified, right?"

Morgan barks out a sudden laugh. "Now _that's_ a good plan!"

"You two are horrible." Kjelle says flatly. "Can we move on already?"

"But I'm not done figuring out how I'm going to single-handedly steal the money of every rich man and woman in Ylisstol!" Morgan pouts.

"That's a lot of dates."

"I know! Think of all the great food I can sucker people into buying me!" Morgan says. "This is a great plan!"

"Please don't make enemies." Noire mumbles.

"She will." I say flatly. "That was going to happen no matter what, it was just a matter of how."

"Oh gods."

Morgan throws an arm around Noire's shoulders. "You can join me! Between my cute face and your nice _everything_ we can swindle all of Ylisstol! Nah can join in too; we can have a whole act going!"

Nah looks supremely unimpressed. "Leave me out of this childish nonsense."

"I-I think I'll pass." Noire says.

"Your loss. I'll have all the fun!" Morgan says cheerfully.

"How quickly I'm abandoned when you get prospects of money." I sigh dramatically. "Alas, you are a golddigger to the end."

"Aww, I'll always have a place in my heart for you." Morgan coos. "But you can't blame a girl for wanting some more attention can you? What's a few other dates on the side?"

"You're horrible Morgan." I say, and pat her head again. "And by that I mean go right ahead. Don't get yourself into _too_ much trouble though."

I say that as a joke, but I'm quite serious. As much as I like Morgan, I wouldn't deny her the chance to date other people, either just for fun or as a serious search for someone else. I got my current relationship with her on virtue of her not really interacting with many other people beforehand.

Or maybe I've overthinking things. Either way, I'll let Morgan interpret that as she wants.

###

"Everyone's watching though your eyes~" I sing quietly. "There's only two options: win or die~"

I'd forgotten about the songs from League of Legends. They don't have many, but they're hella good. I couldn't tell you what reminded me of them today. Sometimes a song just slips back into my mind I guess.

"You better not be singing that for much longer Nathan." Kjelle grumbles. "I plan on actually getting sleep tonight."

It really is an inconvenient time to remember these songs exist, but I can't not sing them. This is the only way I'll be able to hear these songs. I _have_ to keep singing, even if it's an annoyance. Repetition is how you remember things after all. I won't risk forgetting these songs.

I do wonder, though, if I should be clinging so tightly to these things from Earth. Am I simply refusing to move on, or is it justified for me to obsess over songs from Earth? Especially considering how many songs I'm trying to keep in my head, this could be unhealthy for me.

But I don't _want_ to move on. I happen to like Earth and many of the things in it. At the same time, I can't really expect to live like this forever, constantly trying to juggle a hundred songs in my head so that I don't forget them.

I guess I haven't accepted my situation. I'm still clinging to hope that somehow things won't be too different, and that I can afford to remember all these songs. I'm going to have to face facts eventually, but it won't be tonight.

###

"I think it must be the crossbow itself." I say as I retrieve any surviving bolts from the tree. "It's just too crude. It's probably uneven somewhere, using the wrong type of wood, or _something_ of the sort."

"So what I'm hearing is that you need better tools next time." Morgan says. She's sitting on a rock, watching my practice.

"I think it's more that I'll need measuring instruments to make sure everything is symmetrical and smooth. I need to make sure the strings are tied in the exact same spots and not slightly forward or backward on one side, and I have to be sure that the bow isn't just a bit larger on one side or something. There's so many small things that _could_ be wrong. I need something to measure distance and something to measure angles. A ruler and a protractor."

"Hmm…" Morgan hums. "Reinventing something is difficult. Who knew?"

"I know, I know." I grumble. "It would be convenient if I was an engineer. That would make this whole process a lot easier. I'd actually know what I have to do instead of wildly guessing."

"Well sure, but at least you have an idea what you're doing."

"I guess…" I say. "For all I know you're actually right and I need better tools."

"Do you always second-guess yourself like this?" Morgan asks suddenly. "Never being sure about anything?"

"Of course." I nod. "I'm not foolish enough to assume I can say anything for certain, especially about things of which I don't have professional knowledge. Saying anything 'for certain' would be dishonest of me."

"I guess I understand." Morgan says. "But that seems…"

"Annoying?"

"I was trying to say that in a more polite way." Morgan admits. "But yes."

"Well long story short. I want any uncertainty to be acknowledged because even point-one percent chances might be important, and I don't like lying and pretending those chances don't exist, even if it's for the sake of morale or whatever." I say.

"So it's a truth thing."

"Yes."

"Okay." Morgan shrugs. "I was just curious if there was a reason behind all your second-guessing."

"I've had too many experiences where a lack of thinking things over leads to something going wrong." I say. "Better to second guess all the time than be reckless. You're more likely to succeed at something if you're overprepared, not underprepared."

"Hmm…" Morgan hums. "Well that's fair enough I suppose."

"Yeah, but it leads to problems on it's own. Half the reason I can't talk to strangers is because I'm always second-guessing how they'll react, even though I have no reasonable way to be able to predict that and shouldn't be worrying about it in the first place." I grumble, and then I promptly sigh. "And here I am, going on about my own problems again."

"You do seem to have a lot of them." Morgan chirps. "I'm still happy to listen."

"Yeah I know, but I don't want all my time with you to be me whining about petty things." I say. "So… uh…"

"Change of subject?"

"Yes please."

"Hmm…" Morgan muses. "You were a writer, right?"

"To a degree, yes."

"Tell me about something you wrote!"

"Oh." I blink. "You know, I was expecting a more general conversation topic, but this works."

"Hey, I have less than a year of life experience. I'm living vicariously through whatever you tell me." Morgan says. "I have very little I could actually talk about."

Well okay then. I better choose a good story. Let's see… "Well, most of my stories are what you'd call fanfiction. They use the ideas, characters, and settings of someone else, though usually not for monetary gain because that would be sketchy. So, remember those other Fire Emblem universes?"

"Yeah."

"Well I wrote a story about this teacher called Byleth, and he likes to break into students' rooms..."

###

It occurs to me I've been waiting until we get to Ylisstol to try and do some things like learn to write, or just get new skills of any sort, and while that's not totally unreasonable as we will be in one place for a somewhat extended period of time and that's a good opportunity to get some learning done, there are a few things I could be doing now… like getting those measuring tools. A ruler is something I can ask someone to make. It's literally just a piece of wood with marks at regular intervals. I could make my own using my finger to space the notches, but I'd rather have the notches cut in some actual existing form of measurement. I also want a protractor, but I have no idea if those exist yet.

It's a weird request, judging by the town woodworker's raised eyebrow. He informs me he can make the ruler, but a goniometer (not a protractor, but something that fulfills a similar function) is something I'm probably going to have to find a skilled blacksmith about. He can make me a fifty centimeter ruler in half an hour though. It's really simple.

Yes, they're called centimeters. Go figure. The calendar changes and the language changes, but they still use centimeters.

I hand him two copper for the ruler (that seems like so little, I got charged fifty copper for a whetstone but a ruler is two? Weird) and go off to find a blacksmith while I wait for it to be done. The woodworker said the blacksmith could do it. I don't know why _he_ can't do it, but whatever. Maybe he just wants to spread business around the whole town and help everyone out. I can imagine that. The woodworker was really nice after all. He didn't raise an eyebrow at my stuttering. I can imagine him sharing business.

Incidentally, Morgan is off doing… something. I don't actually know. I told her I was going to buy some things _alone_ today, and so I am. She pouted about it. It was cute. But I need to actually talk to strangers, no matter how much I hate doing it. If I hadn't insisted she not come, she'd absolutely be following me around right now.

I've underestimated just how attached Morgan is to me… and vice versa. I'm constantly thinking of something to say, starting to say it, then remembering Morgan isn't next to me. Even now when Morgan isn't here, I'm still thinking about her.

" _Now I know why young couples are always so clingy._ " I think to myself as I try and find the blacksmith. " _Being in a relationship is downright addictive._ "

Focus Nathan. Blacksmith.

Because I have a terrible sense of direction I have to ask where the blacksmith is, even though the woodworker already told me. It takes me about five minutes to get there in total. Not too bad.

" _I could use a watch._ " I think to myself as I stand outside the blacksmith's forge, gathering my courage. " _Those are going to be expensive though, assuming they even exist._ "

Are the 1500s medieval ages? I think that's when the first watches were made. I don't know exactly how watches work, but I know some of them use coiled wires to intermittently release energy into the watch to make it function, hence why some old watches needed to be wound. I wonder if Miriel could make a functional watch with just that information.

With nothing else to distract myself with, I resign myself to actually entering the blacksmith's shop… and promptly learn that I should have been talking about the blacksmiths' shop, not the blacksmith's.

It's the placement of the apostrophe denoting possession. If you move it after the s, it indicated plural possession.

I'm saying there are two blacksmiths. One man, and one woman. The man is significantly older than the woman with long, unkempt, white hair that is blackened with soot, deep brown eyes, a furrowed unibrow, and a body so jacked and well-defined he could pass as a sculpture if you slapped some paint on him. He's also shirtless. The woman looks… young? I think? It's hard to tell with the soot on her face and much more conservative dress, but the pitch of her voice makes me think she's not even over eighteen yet. She has chestnut hair and similar eyes. She also clearly must have a lot of muscle, judging by how she's carrying a huge metal cauldron without too much effort when I walk through the door.

"I meant the crucible!" The old man barks. "Not the cauldon!"

"Then just say "crucible" next time instead of "big pot" Grandpa! I know what a crucible is!" The girl retorts with equal attitude, and plants the cauldron on the floor with a heavy thudding noise. "And the crucible isn't even that big!"

"It's big enough!" The old man says defensively.

"I can carry the crucible in one hand Grandpa! That's not big!"

I have a feeling that if I let them keep talking they'll go on forever. I just need to interrupt them. "Erm… pardon me."

"What?" They both ask at the same time, turning their heads towards me. I instinctively flinch at the sharp voices, but stop short of cowering.

" _I'm a customer. They're not angry._ " I remind myself. "I- hello. I'm Nathan." Well that's irrelevant information. Get to the point Nathan. "I wanted to ask if you were capable of making a goniometer."

"Oh, another one o' those things, huh?" The old man says. "Do you know a crazy mage lady with glasses?"

What? That sounds like Miriel. What are the odds? "Crazy mage lady is a pretty broad definition. Can you give me a name?"

"Mura… Mural?" The old man says. "Lily, was it Mural?"

" _Miriel_ , Grandpa. Not Mural."

"Ah, Miriel, right, I knew that!"

"Sure you did…" The girl, Lily, scoffs. "Memory is the first to go they say."

"Really? I thought it was beauty. Speaking of, shouldn't you be worried 'bout getting a man before yours is gone rather than makin' snarky comments?" The old man shoots back.

"You can't use that retort for everything Grandpa!"

"I can and I will as long as it keeps workin'!" He says with a grin.

"So." I cut in. "You _can_ make a goniometer?"

"O' course we can!" The old man huffs. "Do we look like amateurs to you?"

"Considering how often you get off topic and forget names, it wouldn't surprise me." Lily quips.

"You're just as guilty!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"So how long would it take to get one made?" I ask, cutting in again. These two cannot stay focused. How do they ever get work done? Also, I don't even want to consider how infinitesimally small the chances are of me asking for the same device from the same people that Miriel did at some point. I basically just won the lottery… for something that I could have had someone make in Ylisstol less than a month down the road if I wanted. What a waste of lottery odds.

"A day!" The old man says.

"Grandpa, we can't just drop everything else to make this thing." Lily scolds.

"I'll pay extra to have the process expedited." I offer. "If you're capable of having it ready by tomorrow…"

"Done!" The old man says, and extends a hand for a shake.

"Grandpa!"

"What? I'm not about to turn down good money!" He huffs. "We can do that no problem, we made the molds last time for Mural, it'll be faster this time around!"

"Miriel." I correct quietly, and shake his hand. "How much do you want, by the way?"

"Lettin' me set the price? Generous of you boy." The man chuckles. "You ain't used to haggling, are you?"

"No." I admit.

"Honest to a fault too." Lily sighs. "You've gotten ripped off in the past. I can tell just by listening to you."

Ouch. Probably true, but ouch.

"Don't go insulting customers fool girl!" The old man barks. To me he says. "So, a price. Normally I'd charge a silver for somethin' specialized like this, but if you want it speedy… One and twenty copper, to make up for the delays on other orders. Fair enough?"

That's so much cheaper than I was expecting. I was worried a precision instrument like this would cost _gold_ , not less than two silver. I'll have to thank Miriel for laying the groundwork. This probably would have cost much more if they had to make molds and all that as well.

Lily gives the old man a pointed look. "Grandpa, we _just_ pointed out he doesn't know how to haggle."

"Fine, fine, One and fifteen." He huffs.

" _Grandpa._ "

"One and ten! Fine! That's as low as I'm going! Happy?" He shouts.

That's so cheap. Then again, my sense of money is a bit skewed by Morgan being able to frivolously spend gold when a normal farmer would be lucky to own a single gold piece once in his entire life. It's only now that I'm really starting to understand how filthy rich Morgan actually is compared to the average person if a mere ten copper is a significant difference to these people. "One and ten works just fine. How fast are we talking? Tomorrow morning?"

"We can have it ready by nightfall." The old man scoffs. "Sun's not even at midpoint kid! Making a tool like this ain't like makin' a sword where ya need to fold the metal an' file down the edge. Yer tool just gotta be the right shape an' have some numbers on it. Easily done."

"It's tedious, not hard." Lily agrees. She's currently digging through some shelves and cabinets. "It's literally just a small slab and rod of metal with a pin connecting them. That's dirt simple. The longest part will be getting the numbers on it. Making the actual device is no problem since we have the mold and the thingy doesn't have to have anything special done to it metal-wise to make the process take longer."

"Come back at sundown! We'll have it ready for ya." The man says.

"Okay." I say. I dig into my pouch and pull out the silver and ten copper. "Here you go then."

"Thank you kindly kid." The old man says. "Lily! Find that mold!"

"I already found it Grandpa, pay attention!"

"Stop given' me sass little girl! I'm your mentor!"

"You have to be wise to be a mentor! You're just old!"

I leave the two to bicker. Hopefully they'll actually get the goniometer done. In the meantime, I'll pick up my ruler.

###

Morgan is gone when I get back to the inn. Kjelle is out somewhere too, but Noire is there. So I'm left in the awkward position of either twiddling around in my room doing basically nothing (I guess I could make some more crossbow bolts or something), or I could take advantage of this situation as an excuse to talk with Noire.

Noire is… a friend? I think? She doesn't avoid me anymore, so that's something. Still, it's a bit awkward for either of us to initiate conversation, so this low-stakes opportunity with no one else to see our blunders is the perfect opportunity to try and… I dunno. Become closer? Not be as hesitant around each other? Become better friends? Something like that.

That's why after I asked Noire where Morgan went, and she said "shopping", I don't close the door to her room and leave. I stand nervously in the doorframe, trying to think of something to say to start a conversation. This isn't like with Morgan where I can say literally anything, a total non-sequitur, and she'll roll with it.

Noire obviously notices that I haven't left, because how could she not, and she's stopped her sewing and nervously meets my eye. She doesn't say anything, but she's silently asking why I'm still here. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, her shoulders start to hunch and I cringe. I have to say _something_. Just spit something out Nathan.

"Sorry." I say impulsively. I guess I'm back to random apologies. Great job Nathan. "I just… I wanted to talk, and couldn't think of anything to say."

"Oh." Noire says quietly. "I'm not good at that either."

There's another awkward silence, and I really do debate leaving at this point. Clearly I have nothing to say. "I… uh…"

"D-Do you know about my future?" Noire asks suddenly, and puts down her sewing needle altogether. I guess she doesn't mind me here. That's a relief.

I step in the room and close the door, and take a seat across the room from her. "I know some possible outcomes, yes. Nothing too detailed though."

"Do you know I will interact with children?"

That's an oddly specific question, and just an odd question, and one I unfortunately can't help with. "No. None of your possible endings really go into that. The closest one is your unpaired ending where you stay with your mother for a while with the implication that it might be to protect your infant self."

"Okay." Noire says. Her tone is unusually meek, even for her. It's barely a whisper. In a rare moment of actually being able to read body language, I notice her fists clench and unclench around her needles. Anger? Or anxiety? I don't think I've done anything wrong yet, so let's go with anxiety.

"What's up?" I ask. "I mean, you don't have to go into detail if it's personal, not my place to intrude, but if you're looking for someone to talk to… well… I have enough miscellaneous knowledge stored in my brain that I might be able to offer _something_ of use, or failing that I can at least offer a sympathetic ear."

Noire silently considers my offer. I'm fully expecting her to decline here. It's not like I've shown myself to be particularly smart or impressive, but I can't just ignore something that's bothering her. She went out of her way to comfort me not that long ago. I have a duty to return the favor if I can. Also… I still care about her, even if I don't really know her. I learned about her mostly from Awakening, granted, but just because my knowledge is skewed doesn't mean I can't have empathy or sympathy.

It's to my surprise when Noire actually speaks her mind rather than shutting me out.

"You know how my mother was in the future." Noire says quietly. "Right?"

"Yeah." I nod. Future Tharja was an abusive bitch. What does this have to do with Noire dealing with children though?

"I… the reason I asked my question…" Noire wrings her hands. "W-Will I turn out like Mother?"

Oh. Well _that's_ a complicated question, and not an insignificant worry. I could give her generic reassurance and say that of course she won't, but anyone can give generic reassurance. If I want to be even vaguely helpful, I need to do something else. "That's up to you Noire. Your actions will decide that."

"I _know_ that." Noire says in frustration. "B-But what if it doesn't matter what I do? What if I'm destined to turn out like her?"

"Well destiny in this world has been thwarted before." I say slowly, but we both know that's not the main issue. "However… hmm… if we want to talk psychology of some sort, I can offer you this: you learned from Tharja. This is not something you can change. Whether you like it or not, she is responsible for shaping who you are today."

Noire's eyes fall to the floor and her shoulders hunch, but I'm not quite done.

"I won't lie and pretend it's not an inconvenience." I say. "You _have_ learned behaviours from her if she's been your caretaker for an extended period of time, and people do tend to take after their parents."

Noire still hasn't looked up. I need to get to the point.

"And changing your ways is difficult. It takes immense force of will, and constant repetition to develop new habits." I say. "However, it is absolutely possible. If we were all carbon copies of our parents the world would never change, and the world obviously _does_ change, so that's not true at all."

Noire finally does look up, though I can't read her expression. Is that hope? Anxiety? Confusion?

"It's entirely possible you will take after your Mother in terms of parenting instincts." I whisper. That's an ugly fact, but it's true. We do take after our parents for better or for worse. "But enough willpower and self-reflection can change that."

At this point I reach forward and poke her nose, smiling, and she blinks and sits up straight in surprise.

"And need I remind you that you survived a hellscape for years on end. If there's one thing you have in spades it's willpower, whether you recognize it or not. If you're going to have kids at some point, that also means you'll have a partner, and you'll have them for help too." I say. "So, at this point I can safely say that you'll be fine, as much of a stock reassurance as that is. Maybe it will take some effort, but as long as you're willing to put in the effort when something is going wrong, there's no reason for you to end up like your mother."

That was either the most profound or most pretentious thing I've ever said. It depends on whether Noire cares for what I've said or not. My advice was still pretty generic, I just tried to acknowledge some of the negative aspects of her situation rather than glossing over it.

"So, uh, yeah…" I finish lamely. "Hope that helps."

Noire is staring at me now. Is that a good thing? Is that a bad thing? Have I made an ass of myself? I totally have, haven't I? Shit.

"That…" Noire says quietly. Her voice is hoarse. "Thank you."

I think that's a positive reaction? "Sorry if that's not what you were looking for."

"No, it helps." Noire whispers. "It's nice to have something more than reassurances to work with."

Oh good. My additional ideas _were_ helpful. Yay.

"But can we talk about something else now?" Noire asks. "I want to think about that on my own time. Later."

"Sure." I say as gently as I can. "So, what was it you were sewing?"

"I'm actually knitting." She murmurs, and holds up the small piece of fabric. "W-We're going into warmer territory, so I plan on getting new clothes, and I'm making this shawl to go overtop of it."

"Just started?"

"Y-Yes."

"I presume you've done this before?"

"Many times." She nods. "No one else in our group really knew how to sew or knit, so I did all the repairs and would make new clothes out of fabric we found."

"Oh cool. What did you make."

"Well…"

We spend most of the afternoon talking about quietly talking about small things. Noire talks about all the things she's made and repaired, and I tell her what I know about how clothing has changed in modern times. I never in my life thought I would spend any length of time doing this, but it's a surprisingly pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

Morgan eventually comes back around dinner and complains that I'm having fun without her. I pick up my goniometer after dinner, and I think I can safely call this a productive day.

We're also less than a week away from Ylisstol. I'm trying not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a chapter in which things happened. I don't write combat well, so that's why the Risen fights weren't really focused upon.
> 
> I like this chapter. I don't know what it is about it, but I like this one.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of plot stuff and setup here.

I don't exactly know what happened, but Morgan has suddenly become very intent on explaining things to me. Maybe our talk a few days ago where she said she "was living vicariously through me" sparked something in her? Either way, I'm suddenly getting a crash course in the value of things, and I'm doing terribly.

"So, wait, wood objects are worth more than metal ones?" I ask. "I thought metal was more expensive."

"No, _detailed_ wooden objects are worth more than metal objects. It's the labour cost." Morgan explains. "And detailed metal objects are worth more than detailed wooden ones, unless they're luxury items in which case they're both absurdly expensive."

"How much is "absurdly expensive"?"

"If it's more than, like, five silver, it's probably a luxury item." Morgan says. "Unless the materials for the object are super rare or something."

"So that time we spent a gold or two on a restaurant-"

" _Extremely_ wasteful." Morgan chirps, showing no shame at all. "You could probably buy a set or two of full plate steel armor for that. But it was fun, right?"

"Yeah, it was." I say. "And steel is a lot more costly than iron, right?"

"Yep."

"Got it." There's no way I'm going to remember all this, but hopefully I retain _something_. "Er… what brought this on exactly?"

"I was doing Morgan things-"

I roll my eyes. "Oh yes, Morgan things. Why didn't I think of that?"

Morgan continues as if I didn't speak. "-and it occurred to me that I was being a bad girlfriend-"

"You weren't."

"Shush! You asked, so let me finish." Morgan pouts. "So I-"

"What are Morgan things?" I interrupt, smirking.

She pouts at me. "Nathaaan."

"Sorry, sorry. Go on."

"So I was being a bad girlfriend because there were some things I could teach you pretty easily, and I wasn't doing that even though I could." Morgan says.

"Morgan… that's more my fault than yours. I've been pretty lazy."

"No you haven't."

"Morgan, I've had literal months to ask you basically anything I wanted, and I didn't. Maybe you can give the first month a pass because I was waiting to wake up from a coma, but even that's a stretch."

"You didn't know you weren't in a coma until a month and a half ago." Morgan protests. "And it's not like you didn't do anything at all. You made a crossbow and you kept up your axe training."

"Morgan, that's barely anything."

"Well…"

"I appreciate your tolerance and trying to reassure me." I say. "But you really shouldn't be making excuses for me Morgan. I _know_ I haven't done enough."

Morgan doesn't look happy about it, which is odd because I don't see why me explaining what _I've_ done wrong would make _her_ upset. She's scowling at the moment.

"So, uh…" I falter. "I might ask you a lot of questions in the next few days, if that's fine. Also, when we get to Ylisstol, would you mind starting to teach me to write?"

"Fine." She huffs.

"And I've been considering getting a sword to replace my axe, because having a side-arm I can carry everywhere seems a lot more useful than an axe I can only carry when travelling or in battle." I say. From my understanding, swords are more or less the medieval equivalent of a pistol. Not a main weapon, but a backup. It would be weird to carry an axe around at all times, that would be like carrying around a rifle, but a sword isn't as out of place. I don't plan on fighting on the front lines if I can avoid it, but I still need a weapon, so a sword seems like the natural choice because I can bring it everywhere. Besides, if I'll be getting my old body back I'll need a lighter weapon. My old body is super weak. "So, uh…"

"I'll train you." She says before I can even properly ask.

"Thanks…" I cough. I'm really not making a case for being less needy at the moment. "Morgan, why are you so unhappy?"

"I don't know." She admits after a tense second. "I just feel annoyed."

"Is it because I was talking down about myself?"

"I think so? That sounds right."

A smile crosses my face. "Well thank you for wanting to protect me from myself, but in this case it's really not necessary."

"I know…"

"You're still cute when you pout."

That makes her scowl even more and cross her arms. She looks like a petulant child. I poke her in the cheek and she huffs at me, but also cracks a smile.

"Thank you for taking care of me Morgan." I say gently.

"Are you always going to be this sappy?" She says. Her arms uncross and she pokes me back. "It's not a problem. I like taking care of you honestly. I like feeling _needed_."

"Well unfortunately the goal is for me to not need to rely on you to survive." I remind her. Then I make a joke. "Though I promise not to throw you to the wayside when I'm no longer a needy brat."

"You better not! I've invested a lot in you. I don't want it to go to waste." She says. "Besides, if you leave, who will sing for me and roleplay with me?"

"Oh, so now the truth comes out. That's why you want me around." I tease. "You just want entertainment."

"Well…" Morgan drags out the word, smiling. "No, that's not it. But it is a nice bonus."

After that cheesy moment, Morgan goes back to trying to explain money to me… to questionable amounts of success.

Morgan dragging my outside the inn immediately after to start on the basics of swordplay with practice weapons is mildly terrifying, because I know perfectly well how skilled Morgan is and how badly she could kick my ass if she wanted to. Half the reason I'm so reluctant to spar with people in the first place is because I don't want to get injured, and also because I don't want to be constantly made a fool of. Morgan doesn't do either of those things, obviously, but now that we're using the same weapon our skill gap is even more apparent.

Hopefully I can get the basics down before too long. This weapon change should have been done well in advance of now, but better late than never I suppose.

###

In the one week it takes for us to get back to Ylisstol, I focus on trying to get to some level of competence with the sword. With meeting the Shepherds imminent I'm suddenly and painfully aware at how unimpressive I am beyond my game knowledge. I'm a writer who can't write and I can barely defend myself (well, maybe from a range I can with my crossbow). Granted, again, I don't plan on fighting on the front lines, but not being an active liability whenever I do have to enter combat would be nice.

I also spend some time trying to make a new crossbow. It's… slow. I make sure everything is perfectly symmetrical in the crossbow to eliminate my formerly crude construction as a problem affecting my aim. This means measuring every angle, cutting every piece of wood exactly the right length, and a whole bunch of other tedious bullshit. I get it done by the time we get to Ylisstol, but don't have time to test it all that much.

This is my way of saying that we arrive at Ylisstol, and I'm sort of freaking out because that means I'm going to meet the first generation Shepherds soon. The others are similarly nervous, although for much more important reasons. They're meeting their parents after years of them being dead (so to speak).

With this in mind, despite how acutely nervous I am, I smile and try to act confident for the sake of reassuring the others. This situation is not about me. I _know_ Morgan is worried about how her father will perceive her, and Noire has anxieties about her mother because Tharja is… Tharja. I don't really know about Kjelle and Nah because I don't talk to them all that much, but I can imagine for all her tough girl attitude Kjelle is still worried, and Nah is annoyed by her mother but probably still loves her unless something major has changed.

Of course, I don't do the whole "confidence" very well, so in order to fake confidence I sing, quietly, because there are crowds.

Ylisse is big. Well, big relative to other places in this world so far. I've been to Toronto and New York and Rome and all of those are definitely bigger than Ylisstol, but once you're actually in the city and not seeing it from the outside it's easy to forget the size difference. That size also means that if you're travelling down major streets like we are then there are crowds, and having the variety of different appearances that we do, we attract attention.

I imagine it has something to do with Morgan looking Plegian, and Ylisse just finished off the Ylisse-Plegia war, so naturally people here aren't going to be too happy with a Plegian casually walking around their capital city.

If Morgan notices I've nudged her to the center of our group so the rest of us are surrounding her, she doesn't comment. My protectiveness is probably unnecessary, but if no one is complaining I'm going to do it anyways.

Kjelle is leading us at the moment. She grew up in Ylisstol, so she knows exactly where we need to go. Kjelle makes it sound like we should just be able to walk into the Shepherds' barracks unopposed, which seems dubious to me because the Shepherds' barracks is at least ostensibly a military structure and should have at least one or two guards we'll have to get by.

Ylisstol is different from Feroxi cities. The difference was noticeable in the small towns too, but more so here. Where the Feroxi used almost exclusively wood for their buildings, Ylisstol has clay structures for the poorer parts of town and brick and stone for the richer. Rich rooves even use tiling, some of which wouldn't be too out of place in modern times. Some aspects of the city remind me of when I visited Rome, what with the cobblestone roads and old-ass architectural styles. Though I wouldn't exactly say the city is Roman styled, it's just the closest comparison I can make.

There's so many things to take in. We pass through a large square, a market, a road with some _huge_ houses and massive areas of land behind them, what looks like a sectioned-off forest right in the middle of the city, a whole area that seems devoted to restaurants and specialist shops, and many more things that I'm probably forgetting.

I also can't help but notice how empty some parts of the city are. There are entire streets, usually some lower-class neighbourhoods judging by the types of buildings, that are abandoned with only some stray cats and dogs slinking around.

So here's the thing. I'm not a history buff, but I have some minor knowledge about the effects of war, especially large wars. Oddly enough, I learned it in a class about Jane Austen novels. When there is a war, do you know who gets sent to fight? Young men. Either they're conscripted, or else they're targeted by military ads to encourage them to enlist, or for other cultural reasons or just… you get the point. Because war is a bloody thing, literally, that means any country that has a sufficiently nasty war will also lose a lot of young men, and if Ylisse is anything like most medieval countries then young men are the breadwinners of the family.

I'm saying that I suspect these abandoned streets might be a result of families suddenly losing their money-maker. With the husband and/or sons dead, it's only the women left to fend for themselves, and they're going to have a harder time getting money because of the usual medieval sexist bullshit which might necessitate them finding somewhere even cheaper to live than these already shoddy houses. I haven't seen the slums of this city yet, but I would bet gold it's a lot more crowded than it used to be… or maybe it's not, because a lot of the men that used to live there are probably dead as well.

I don't know that for sure, I'd have to ask someone more knowledgeable, but I'm fairly confident that the death of lots of men has _something_ to do with those empty streets. If I remember correctly, Chrom's father also waged war on Plegia in the past, and who knows how bloody that war was and how many men died in it.

Not that there weren't female deaths, but I think we all know they were much less common because beside the pegasus knights and some healers, almost all of the armies are going to be made up of men. That's not me being sexist, that's just facts of the medieval era. Heck, even in modern times on Earth it's still well over 70% men for the militaries of the US or Canada… mostly because young men are still stupid enough to think that joining the military is unequivocally good thing.

Well, okay, that's being a bit unfair. There _are_ genuinely good reasons to join the military. However, in Canada (from what I've seen, I don't go looking for this stuff) it's not too unusual to see recruitment ads that use terms like "serving your country" or "pushing boundaries in X field" (usually science) and conveniently gloss over the possibilities of death and permanent mental and physical injury, and not to mention that the training process is literally designed to strip you of your individualism and turn you into a tool for the country to use. I'd imagine this goes for most other countries too, but I don't know for sure.

So I mean… I guess you could say I hate militaries, or at least how they are operated. I respect the people who serve, but not the organizations. Militaries tend to get a pass in the public eye because they're protecting their country, but in my eyes that's all the more reason to hold them to the highest standard rather than let them use deceptive marketing to get gullible people to throw their lives away just so they can have more numbers.

At least blatant lies and false advertising are better than outright conscription.

Wait, does _Ylisse_ have conscription? A lot of medieval countries did, right? Emmeryn is in charge though. She doesn't seem like she'd allow that, but that might be an anachronistic assumption on my part. Conscription might just be a fact of the medieval world. Just another reason in the long list of reasons why this world sucks.

Well great. I might be forced to fight one way or another. It's just a matter if I want to die alongside the Shepherds or die in an army. What a lovely choice. I'm no pacifist, but I don't want to fight. I respect a person's freedom to choose to put their life on the line or not, including my own. Forced conscription is a human rights violation after all, and even a giant death dragon's return doesn't exempt anyone from moral considerations.

Ugh… this is not what I should be thinking about right now. The last thing I want to do is work myself into a rage just before meeting the Shepherds over something mostly unrelated. Focus Nathan.

I'm totally asking someone about the empty streets later though.

It was never very clear if the Shepherds' barracks was actually within the palace or if it was just nearby. Judging by how Lissa could just drag Robin off to the barracks as Chrom went to talk to Emmeryn though, the barracks has to be nearby at the very least.

As it turns out the barracks isn't in the castle grounds… technically. There is a gate leading directly from the barracks to the castle grounds though. There also isn't a guard for the barracks necessarily, but there are some patrolling the castle walls that can see the entrance to the barracks, so it's not like the Shepherds' barracks is undefended exactly.

That explains why we can just walk in though. Technically, there's no guard.

Morgan and Noire's nervousness is obvious as we stop on the street outside the yard. My own heart is thumping in my chest, but I forcefully ignore it. I'm only responsible for convincing everyone that the others are from the future. No pressure. They're meeting their parents. Much more important.

"Morgan." I say, and put a hand on her shoulder. "You're super fucking cute, highly intelligent, and just, like, the best. If your father doesn't think you're awesome then he's a certified moron."

"Yeah." Morgan says quietly. Then, a moment later, much louder. "Yeah! I'm a genius, and I've been turning heads since we got into the city! I've got nothing to worry about!"

"And Noire." I say, much more gently. She doesn't need a pep talk so much as reassurance. "Your father is probably still alive, so your mother isn't going to be as nasty as she was in the future. Things don't have to turn out like they did then."

"R-Right." Noire murmurs. She takes a shaky breath. "Right…"

"And you two… don't really need reassurance." I say towards Kjelle and Nah. "Nah is a manakete, which is a dead giveaway, and Kjelle is way too much like Sully for there to be much uncertainty anyways."

"Yeah." Nah shrugs.

"I'm taking that as a compliment." Kjelle says haughtily.

You would think that's a compliment, wouldn't you? Granted, I haven't met Sully, so I don't actually know whether I would intend that as an insult or not.

With my sore excuse for comfort out of the way, we actually walk into the barracks. The guards on the castle wall watch us as we enter, but no one moves to stop us.

Just like how everyone actually resembles their portraits, the entryway is remarkably similar to what you see in game. There are actually crates lying randomly around, though at least they're pushed to one side, and there aren't papers scattered across the floor for Sumia to trip over.

There's also no one here, or at least not in the entryway. I don't know if that's just because it's early (it's not quite noon yet, though we're getting close, and I don't see why they wouldn't be up yet) or if it's because no one is here.

"Huh." Kjelle mutters, and shoves a crate out of the way with her foot. "More messy than I remember."

"Less so than the start of the game." I offer in return. "No papers lying around."

"Where is everyone?" Nah frowns. "The war is over. Are they not back yet?"

That's a good point. Though with carts and horses I imagine that would somewhat cut down on travel time.

"Well we can at least look around and try to find someone." Morgan says. She has no hesitation in walking around this building she doesn't know that technically belongs to other people.

We follow her into the mess room where there is… no one. There is also no one in the kitchen. We check outside in the training area, and there is no one there either. We then check every other area of the barracks aside from the bedrooms, and find them unoccupied.

"Well…" I say quietly. "Do we feel like barging into someone's room?"

"Not particularly." Morgan frowns. "Maybe no one is here? That sucks."

A voice I vaguely recognize interrupts us. The terminology she uses is even more of a giveaway. "No so, man-spawn. They are asleep. The trip back from Plegia is taxing on human minds, apparently."

Out of all the people I expected to meet first, Panne was not one of them. I really wish I knew how to pronounce her name at the moment. Is it just "pan" like the cooking item, or is it "pan-eh"? I imagine it's the former, but I don't know for sure.

"Panne." Kjelle says, and turns to face the taguel. She pronounces it like the household item. Good to have that cleared up. "Are Sully and Stahl here?"

"They are." Panne says. "What business do you have here, man-spawn? I do not recall the mention of meetings or guests yesterday."

"Our business is a bit unusual." Morgan chimes in. "Hi! I'm Morgan!"

"...hello." Panne says after a moment, then looks back to Kjelle. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm from the future." Kjelle says simply. "We all are."

Welp, I guess I'm going to have to explain this _now_. I would much rather explained this to Chrom, or Frederick, or just someone of the main cast, but I guess I have to try and get this through to Panne.

I can't leverage my knowledge of the break in the castle wall with Panne, because Panne probably doesn't know about that. I also can't leverage my knowledge of Chrom slipping in a bathtub when he was young, because Panne also probably doesn't know that. Those were honestly my go-to things for proving I have knowledge that I should have no way of knowing. What else do I use? Hmm…

"The future?" Panne scoffs. "If you are going to lie to me man-spawn-"

"It's no lie." I interrupt. "They're actually from the future. Or, well, an alternate dimension further down the timeline. Basically the same thing."

"They are? And you are not?" Panne asks. She looks more and more suspicious by the second.

"Yes. I'm from beyond the outrealms." I say. I bow to her from the waist. "I'm Nathan. It's an honor to meet you, Panne."

"If you think making progressively more absurd claims is going to help you, then you are mistaken."

"The Shepherds have encountered an individual who calls themselves Marth thrice. Once just after leaving Southtown, one at the Feroxi Khanship Tournament, and once at Emmeryn's attempted assassination. Marth wore a mask and pretended to be male, but was revealed to be female later." I say, keeping my voice as calm as possible. "They have knowledge of the future of some sort, which they have likely not yet revealed."

Panne scrutinizes me closely. "This… is true, as far as I am aware."

"You were informed of Emmeryn's assassination by an individual called Henry, though he has not yet joined the Shepherds." I say. I know this information from reading a translation of the Fire Emblem Awakening audio dramas, because those actually exist. Did you know Lucina and Henry have actually interacted before you meet him on Carrion Isle? Fun fact. "You also have a tactician named Robin. He was found without any memory just outside Southtown by Frederick, Lissa, and Chrom. He probably had a thunder tome and a bronze sword on him to start. Also… you like carrots and don't like potatoes."

Panne stares at me long and hard, and I fold my arms behind my back so Panne can't see how white my knuckles are. If I remember correctly Panne can actually hear heartbeats, so she can probably hear my heart pounding right now and trying to hide my nervousness is pointless.

"That is something you should not know." Panne says quietly. "You claim future knowledge?"

"I claim outside knowledge that may or may not be accurate to the future." I say carefully. "There are things that have changed, and so my knowledge will be more or less accurate depending on certain variables. In very simple terms though… yes. I claim future knowledge. And with that knowledge I will affirm that these girls are in fact from the future as they claim."

Panne stares again, then sighs and mutters. "Everything with humans is so strange."

Sorry Panne. You were unfortunate enough to be the first person to talk to us. This was really information for Robin or Chrom more than you.

"So I guess we just wait here then." Morgan says, and skips out of the kitchen back to the mess hall and drops into a chair. "Hopefully they're up by lunch. I don't want to raid the kitchen."

"You do." I call to her.

"Well yeah." Morgan shrugs unabashedly, and shoots me a grin. "But I have to _pretend_ I don't want to, right?"

###

It's probably a good thing I brought out my chess set, because it gives us something to keep our minds off certain imminent confrontations. Kjelle and Noire and Nah aren't doing something else, so it's their first time fully paying attention to the game and I have to explain the rules all over again so they actually understand what's going on.

They think castling is weird, and that en passant is even stranger. To be fair, there are a large number of people on Earth who don't know what en passant is, or think castling is cheating (no, I'm not joking. Even in Canada where I came from, I've met adults who have played chess to some capacity that somehow never knew castling was a legal move. En passant I can understand because you almost never see it used, but castling is core to the strategy of the game).

The other Shepherds don't wake up all at once. I was expecting to see Frederick early on, but in hindsight he, Chrom, and Lissa probably sleep in the palace rather than the barracks. Instead, the first person who wakes up aside from Panne is Sully.

We don't actually see her walk into the room because we're all focused on the chessboard. We only know she's there when she opens her mouth and barks "Who the fuck are you guys?"

Morgan raises a hand without looking up. "I'm Morgan." She then points to everyone else in turn, still without looking up. "That's Nah, Noire, Nathtan, and Kjelle."

Am I going to have to go through the whole explanation with each individual person who comes down? This is going to be a pain. Also… do we know if Sully is even married at the moment? You know, that's sort of an important point we maybe should have considered before this point.

Kjelle abruptly shoves back her chair and points at her mother. "Sully! I demand a spar!"

"I have no idea who you are kid, but this is a bad time." Sully says tiredly. "We just got back-"

"What sort of knight are you if a march is all it takes to turn you into a weakling?" Kjelle interrupts with a scoff. "Don't insult yourself with that excuse. Grab a pair of practice spears, I'm waiting outside."

Without another word Kjelle marches out of the room. Sully stares after her for a few seconds, then looks at us. "Is anyone going to explain what the fuck is going on here?"

"I will, once everyone is awake." I say, also not looking at her. "I don't want to repeat it every single time someone wakes up. Panne can vouch that I actually have something to say."

"And the spar?"

I wave her off. "That's just Kjelle being Kjelle. Have fun."

Sully doesn't push the issue, thankfully, and does indeed go and get some practice weapons to indulge Kjelle. I guess Sully wasn't going to stand for being called out, no matter how tired she is.

Like mother like daughter. I can say with confidence Kjelle would do exactly the same thing if she were challenged, no matter how exhausted she was.

The next person to wake up is Stahl. I had pinned him as a later sleeper, but I guess I'm wrong. He doesn't have as loud a reaction to see strangers sitting in the dining room. He gives an awkward hello, and we wave back. He asks if we're going to be here for lunch, and we say yes, and he doesn't ask any more questions.

Nice guy. I like him.

Everyone else slowly wakes up and trickles into the dining room. Gregor doesn't bat an eye at us being here, Vaike is curious for about ten seconds before collapsing into a chair, Sumia doesn't seem to process that there is anything unusual at all and basically falls asleep at the table as soon as she sits down.

The next notable person to come in is Ricken, and before Nah can do anything I put a hand on her shoulder and whisper. "We have no idea if your parents are married yet. You're obviously Nowi's daughter, we don't want to make things awkward by making Ricken and Nowi feel obliged to get married." That goes especially because Ricken is a _kid_. The last thing we want to do is put parental responsibility on him before he's mature enough for it.

Nah nods unhappily, but doesn't talk to Ricken. Noire and Morgan also hear this, and make small nods of their own. Just in case though, I point at Noire and Morgan and whisper. "Tharja for you, and obviously Robin for you, got it? Kjelle is going to be Sully."

They nod again to affirm, and me and Morgan continue playing chess.

More and more Shepherds file in into the room, paying various amounts of attention to the four strangers in their midst. Cordelia, Miriel, Libra, Donnel, Vaike, Lon'qu, Virion, Anna, Gaius (Noire tenses up, and Morgan quietly reminds her not to stare), Olivia (I have to remind Morgan this time), Tharja (Noire averts her eyes all on her own), and finally Robin all eventually make their way to the dining room as the smell of food wafts over from the kitchen, and Sully and Kjelle eventually return from their spar, arguing loudly over something. Panne also slunk into the room at some point, and is leaning against the wall.

Robin looks like the default male avatar. Medium build, short white hair, peach skin, and brown-gold eyes. Standard stuff. Morgan doesn't hide her stare, and Robin is alert enough to notice. He's clearly intrigued by her coat, and he'd probably have commented if not for…

"Hey!" Nowi, who is the last to wake up and just walked through the door, is now pointing at Nah. "You're a manakete!"

"Yes, I am." Nah says dryly. It doesn't hide the tremble in her voice though. "Very astute of you Mother."

The word "mother" exiting Nah's mouth effectively silences any other conversation that was happening in the room, including Sully and Kjelle's loud argument. All eyes flick between Nah and Nowi. Sumia, who was almost asleep before, is suddenly sitting upright. Miriel, who was writing something in a book, stops her scribbling and observes the situation with interest. Even Tharja, who was clearly trying to ignore everyone and huddle in the corner of the room, is now paying attention.

I take a deep breath and stand up out of my seat. The cat is out of the bag now. It's showtime.

"What?" Vaike shouts, breaking the quiet. He's sitting right next to Nah. "Why's everyone quiet? Why're y'all looking at me?"

"It's not you Vaike." Cordelia says quietly. "It's…"

"Okay then!" I say loudly, and clap my hands to grab everyone's attention. All eyes instantly turn to me, and my throat feels dry. Morgan puts a hand on my side, and I calm myself enough to speak. "Hello Shepherds! I'm Nathan, nice to meet you! The cute one is Morgan, the shy one is Noire, the loud one is Kjelle, and the sarcastic one is Nah." I say, pointing to each of my companions in turn. "And before you ask, yes, Nah was being serious when she called Nowi her mother. Time travel and dimension hopping is weird like that."

"What?" Gaius says, a frown on his face. "Time travel? What sort of pegasus dung are you trying to sell-"

"You have a brand on your arm after getting caught doing a job favor for someone else." I interrupt. "You're responsible for framing Maribelle's father and nearly causing him to be killed, though you were threatened by others to make that happen and weren't happy about it."

Gaius' mouth clicks shut, and he stares at me with wide eyes.

"So, I'm from beyond the outrealms. It's complicated, I can explain the full details later. The point is that I have some general future knowledge and some specific knowledge of the past, hence how I knew those details about Gaius. I can also confirm that these girls are in fact from the future. Specifically, they are the children of some people in this room."

 _That_ little tidbit of information causes no small amount of nervousness among the crowd. Sumia's hands clench together tight enough that her knuckles turn white. Nowi hopping from foot to foot, barely containing her energy. Miriel is scribbling furiously in her book. Sully is staring down at Kjelle with sudden realization on her face, and Kjelle is staring right back with her arms crossed. Most of the Shepherds just look shocked though.

The person to question me, surprisingly, is Tharja. "You only proved that you know about Gaius." She says in her usual raspy voice. "You could have gotten that information by chance."

"Indeed I could have." I agree. "Incidentally, have you started sending messages to your family yet Tharja? You've also heard of a man named Henry who is guarded by a flock of crows, has incredible skill in curses, and powerful magic. All true by the way. Panne has met him, if you want to ask."

Tharja looks to Panne, and Panne nods.

"Anything else I could say about you doesn't have an exact timeframe, so I don't know exactly when it will happen or when it has happened." I say apologetically. "Or else I'd offer more."

"That's still not enough." Tharja challenges. Some other Shepherds open their mouths, presumably to stop her, but I hold up my hand to forestall comments. I don't exactly have a lack of information to work with.

"So…" I say, glancing about the room. I want a secret I can expose that isn't _too_ cruel to talk about. "Kellam? Are you here?"

"I am." Everyone jumps when his voice softly replies. He was standing near the doorway to the kitchen in my peripheral vision. I'm not surprised I missed him.

"You were a selfish kid when you were younger, weren't you?" I say. "You always got into fights with your five brothers because you refused to share things, and your family started to ignore you because of it, right?"

"That's right." Kellam nods, then more quietly. "All of it is right. I do have five brothers…"

"I didn't know ya had brothers at all." Vaike frowns.

"And there's my point." I interrupt. "You, his companions, didn't know this, but I, a stranger, do. Not because I knew Kellam personally, but because I have outside knowledge of this world. I can keep going if you want, but I don't really want to get into people's more sensitive secrets. If it would help I can tell you about the Shepherds have done so far. Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick probably found Robin lying in a field outside of Southtown, and then the town immediately got attacked, and then on the way back to Ylisstol you got attacked by Risen and saved by someone calling themselves Marth who offered a cryptic warning-"

"True." Robin interrupts. "I'm going to say that's proof enough. You've already shown you have more highly-specific knowledge than you should reasonably be able to have. What is this about us being parents?"

"Well, like I said, these girls are from the future." I say. "Nowi, Nah here is your daughter."

Nowi was barely holding herself back before, and practically flies across the room to hug Nah. There's not a moment of consideration on Nowi's part that I might not be telling the truth, though I suppose Nah being a manakete lends credence to my words. Nah stoically accepts the hug at first, but her cold facade doesn't last all that long before she returns the gesture.

"Sully!" I call, catching her attention. "If it wasn't already obvious, Kjelle is yours!"

"Naga's ass, really?" Sully says, then more quietly. "Twenty six and I've got a full-grown kid, what the heck…"

"I hope that wasn't your best out there." Kjelle taunts. "I'd hate to surpass my own mother within hours of meeting her."

"You little shit." Sully growls, and promptly puts Kjelle into a headlock. They're both smiling though. "I can see I never taught you _respect_ , did I?"

"I respect strength, and that was a weak showing!" Kjelle shoots back.

"And Tharja-" I call.

"Don't tell me…" The dark mage groans.

"Noire here is yours." I say, putting a hand on Noire's back. "Play nice."

Noire nervously makes her way around the table to Tharja, and the two stare silently at each other for a few seconds. Tharja is eyeing her daughter critically, and Noire has her shoulders hunched in anxiety.

"How did I ever make _you_?" The dark mage says after a few seconds.

"I-I- y-you-" Noire stutters. "A-A lot happened…"

"Clearly." Tharja remarks, unimpressed. "Well, I suppose I can still make something out of you, if you are in fact my daughter. Tell me you at least know how to curse."

"A-A little…" She murmurs. "B-But th-that's… that's not…"

Tharja sneers a bit. "Spit it out girl."

"INSOLENCE!" Noire snaps. "YOU FAIL TO UNDERSTAND YOUR SITUATION! IT IS NOT FOR YOU TO SHAPE ME! YOU HAVE TRIED AND FAILED ONCE BEFORE IN A POOR EXCUSE FOR MOTHERHOOD! I GIVE YOU NOW A SECOND CHANCE, BUT DO NOT PRESUME I WILL TOLERATE YOUR FAULTS A _SECOND_ TIME!"

That sets Tharja back and she looks genuinely shocked, if only for a moment. Whether it's the words or the shouting having that effect I'm not sure. Either way, I think I should stop listening in and let them sort it out themselves. Also, good on Noire for being upfront about what she wants and making it explicit she won't tolerate Tharja's shit. In the game she doesn't mention Tharja's bad parenting except in a few other supports.

"And lastly, of course." I say, and look to Robin. "Morgan is yours Rob. She's objectively the best and won't accept being told otherwise."

"Yeah!" Morgan says proudly. "I'm going to be a better tactician than you Father! Just you wait!"

Robin looks the most shocked out of any of the parents so far, though he pulls himself together quickly. "Alright then. Morgan was it?"

"That's me!"

"Well it's nice to meet you." Robin says, clearly struggling to think of what to say. "I'm sure we have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah." Morgan starts to leave my side, but pauses to tug on my shirt and look up at me. I don't know if she wants me to follow, or if she's asking if I'll be fine on my own. Either way I nudge her to leave. As much as I'd feel more comfortable staying next to her, this isn't something I should interrupt. Let Robin get to know his daughter a bit before needing to grapple with the fact she already has a boyfriend.

Of course, with all the girls busy talking to one of their parents, that leaves me to deal with everyone else and I have no idea what I'm doing.

Thankfully, I don't actually end up having to do that. Two things happen at once. Stahl exits the kitchen, and looks very confused at the hugging and arguing people around him, and Chrom and Frederick and Lissa and Maribelle walk into the mess hall from the front entrance and show equal confusion.

I guess I have some re-explaining to do.

###

"So, yeah." I finish lamely. "Future kids, fun times. You have a kid too! Two actually. They're not here at the moment though."

"I see." Chrom says. "Gods, knowing I have children only a month before being married… These are strange times indeed."

"And I haven't even told you all of it." I say. "I gave you the abbreviated version. There's other information I need to give you, this was just the most immediately relevant. I'm afraid we bring ill tidings."

"I see." The prince frowns. He really is too trusting. He didn't bat an eye at being told the girls were from the future and that I'm from beyond the outrealms. He's also a really nice guy, which is immensely calming. I would be a lot more nervous talking to Maribelle or Frederick or even Lissa or Emmeryn. "I suppose it would be wishful thinking to hope this would be the end of the world's issues, wouldn't it?"

"Unfortunately." I agree. "If that were ever true, world peace would have been achieved a long time ago."

"True words." Chrom says. "How imminent are your ill tidings?"

"Two years, if it's accurate to the game." I say. "There have been some discrepancies in the world already, but this is major enough that I still expect it to happen."

"What game are you referring to exactly?" Chrom questions.

"Oh, right. Where I come from you guys, and this whole world, is a game." I say. "It's hard to explain. You're like… a single-player board game where the player gets to experience major events in your timeline as well as some smaller character interactions, hence why I happen to know details about each individual Shepherds."

"That's quite a game."

"It is." I agree. "It was fun, and I remember a lot from it. It's been quite useful."

"I see." Chrom says. "If you don't mind, what is there about me?"

"You smashed a hole in the castle wall, and Marth used it to get in during the attempted assassination of Emmeryn." I say. "And… has Frederick put up posters of you yet?"

Chrom visibly cringes, then deflates. "Of course that would be in your game..."

I pat him on the shoulder. "Don't worry buddy, only a million or so people on Earth probably know about it."

He sighs deeply and I smile. A tall figure then imposes itself next to us.

"Do not become too comfortable with Milord." Frederick warns me. "You may bring tidings of the future, but we have known you for all of a few hours at best."

"Yeah, yeah." I say. "Nice to meet you too Freddy."

"Do not act flippant with me." The knight scowls. "You-"

"Peace Frederick." Chrom soothes. "He has proven his good will by escorting the children here, and offers us tidings of the future free of charge. I think he is well within his right to relax among us."

"I still advise caution Milord." Frederick says stubbornly.

"I expect no less." Chrom says with a light roll of his eyes. "Thank you for the concern, and please do keep an eye out for anything suspicious, but do not pester or threaten our guests Frederick."

"As you wish Milord."

"Have you managed to eat bear meat yet?" I suddenly ask the knight. "Or is that something you've yet to overcome?"

The man's lips thin into a line. "That is none of your concern, _stranger_." He then turns sharply and marches away.

Chrom starts to speak. "Please for-"

"Forgiven." I interrupt. "It's fine. I expected as much. I'm hardly unsuspicious. I do hold an uncomfortable amount of power with my supposed future knowledge, it's only natural he be wary especially considering how we waltzed in here and sat ourselves around your table without introduction."

To be honest, my conversation with Chrom is a delay tactic. I'm praying that Morgan will return and get me _out_ of having to talk with all the Shepherds, but at the same time I don't really expect that to happen any time soon. Chrom is the least threatening person to talk to, hence why I'm overjoyed he's sticking around right now.

Lunch was on the table about twenty minutes ago, courtesy of Stahl. Morgan had enough presence of mind to snatch Kjelle and warn her not to give away her who her father was unless she knew Sully and Stahl were together already. Nowi has been all over Nah since the reveal, and dragged her outside to see her dragon form after lunch. Noire and Tharja have been rather subdued all things considered. After Noire shouted at her, they settled down into an awkward-looking conversation and haven't been talking too much since lunch finished.

Morgan, of course, hasn't stopped talking with her father the entire time. She's been talking way more than him. I guess he's not a chatterbox, or he's just fascinated with his new daughter. Imagine when someone tells him that he also has a son.

"You said I have two children?" Chrom prompts. "Can you tell me about them?"

"Well…" I pause and think. Lucina is keeping her identity a secret, but I doubt Brady is. "One of them has their own agenda, and I must respect their privacy. I can tell you about the other though. You're going to be married to Maribelle right?"

Chrom looks a bit put off that I won't tell him everything, but doesn't push me."Indeed."

"Cool. Then… maybe she'll want to hear this too."

"Indeed I would!" Maribelle herself huffs. She hasn't been involved in the conversation, but she's been sitting next to Chrom the entire time.

"Right then! So here's what he's like…" I then proceed to explain Brady to them, to the best of my recollection. Chrom is fascinated, Maribelle is critical. Basically as you'd expect. I answer a few questions, but I'll spare you the details. It's basic stuff anyways.

At some point a servant comes rushing in to talk to Chrom, and he, Maribelle, and Frederick have to leave. I naively hope that no one else will try to talk with me and that I can hide away until the chaos dies down, but I have no such luck. There's no way I was going to get away with dropping future knowledge on everyone and them _not_ wanting to talk to me.

It's no real surprise that I spend the better part of the next hour being pestered about future kids… and I mostly refuse to talk. Most of these people aren't married, and it would be cruel to tell just one person about their kid and lie or be evasive to the other. That's a necessity with the kids that are already here, but I won't inflict that cruelty without it being necessary.

You could argue refusing to say anything is also cruel, but I'd argue it is less so. Being lied to is far more hurtful than being refused information in my eyes, and better not to pick and choose who gets information arbitrarily, or else it will foster resentment.

Most of the conversations are uneventful, ending with the opposing party being mildly frustrated at my refusal to tell them anything, and sometimes confused that I ask if they're married or not.

No one besides Chrom and Maribelle are even on track to be married, so I have to keep my mouth shut. I'm not making many friends among the Shepherds right now, but all of my options are terrible. Either I tell everyone about their kids and potentially make their lives very complicated through them knowing who they're supposed to get married to, therefore making them feel obliged to get married or have some sort of relationship without the natural setup to one, or I can say nothing (like I am now) which is cruel because I'm withholding important information, but at the same time allowing relationships to foster naturally.

The girls must agree too, because they didn't argue with this idea.

The only Shepherd who doesn't seem annoyed with me is Miriel, who nods in understanding when I explain my logic. Thank Naga for Miriel's logical mind. Speaking of Miriel though, I have a question I need to ask her. Naga told me to speak with Miriel if I wanted my body back after all.

"By the way…" I say, after I've finished explaining why I can't tell her about any potential future children she may have. "I've been told that you might know a way to replace someone's body."

"Your informant was slightly inaccurate then." Miriel says. "I am aware of a spell that can do such a thing, though I have not yet been able to obtain it. Is it of interest to you?"

"Yes." I say instantly. "This body- mine, what you see right now- is not _me_. My actual body got replaced with this one for survival reasons by Naga, though I don't really need it anymore and want mine back."

"Naga you say?" Miriel asks. "How do you know this?"

"She told me as much."

"You have spoken with Naga?

"Yeah." She's taking this well. I was expecting to be called crazy by this point. "It was a one time thing though. She was paying me back for something."

"Can anyone else confirm this?" Miriel questions.

"Not the conversation itself, but Nah can confirm that I Naga intended to speak with me." I offer. "It's a manakete thing from what I'm aware, she can talk with Naga sometimes."

"Fascinating. I shall confirm this later." Miriel murmurs. She takes a moment to push her glasses back up on her nose, as they've slipped down her face somewhat. "If you have interest in the spell to alter your body, I will attempt to obtain it."

"Really?" I say, smiling widely. An immense feeling of relief washes over my body. "For a stranger?"

"I am a woman of science, yet, I am also a Shepherd." Miriel says. "A chance to learn the applications of a new spell and also do a good deed is something that coincides with both of those things. So yes, I will obtain this spell for both of our benefits."

"Thank you Miriel. Truly." I say. "If there's any way I can help, let me know."

"That is unlikely, but I shall remember your words nonetheless." The mage says. "Now if you will excuse me, I must be off. It seems there is little for me if I remain here."

I watch Miriel walk off. She's a lot nicer than I expected. I didn't expect her to be _mean_ or anything, but I did expect her to be mostly indifferent to my situation and that I'd have to convince her to help me. I grossly overestimated how difficult this entire situation would be actually. You'd think convincing people that you're from another dimension and that they have kids from another dimension would be difficult, but it really wasn't in hindsight. Maybe it's because magic already exists and they're dealing with zombies and amnesiacs and whatnot already?

Whatever. I won't question good luck. It won't last forever, so I might as well enjoy it now.

###

After I alienated most of the Shepherds via me by refusing to tell them about their future kids (I still feel awful doing that. Is it the right choice? I could justify only telling the women because kids are based on the mothers in awakening, but it also feels wrong to shut some people out of that knowledge and not others so I'll stick by my choice) there's only a few people that actually want to talk to me. Miriel was one of them, and the other is…

"What a fascinating game." Virion says as I checkmate him. "And this is well known where you come from?"

"Yep. It's the most popular board game in the world, and has had extensive development of strategies over hundreds of years." I say. "I'm not versed in any of them, sadly, but at the highest level this game is incredibly complicated, requiring the ability to plan out moves a dozen terms in advance and have in mind everything the opponent might try to do."

"That is quite an undertaking." Virion agrees. He helps me reset the board. "It sounds like a true nobleman's game."

"I suppose. I think at some point used to train military commanders and generals to help them understand strategy." I recall. "Though at this point it's a household game. It's actually quite an old game, stretching back at least fourteen centuries from present day on Earth."

"That is quite a history." Virion says. "'tis a shame I shall never get to see a truly professional game. I would have quite enjoyed that, I think."

"There were a number of books written about the game too. If I had one on hand I'd offer it to you." I say. "If the game can take off here, the strategies will have to be rebuilt from scratch."

"Do you have plans to try and spread it?" Virion asks.

"I have some designs to do so, yes." I say. "Though I'm not sure how long it will be before I can start my plan, considering there are other things that need to be accomplished in the world. There are still a number of future children that need to be secured, both for their safety and because they're all quite powerful fighters."

"That bodes ill for the future, if we are in need of powerful allies." Virion muses.

"You know exactly why." I remind him. "After all, aren't you here to gather allies because of Valm?"

Virion blinks at me in shock, then shakes his head and chuckles. "My, I suppose I should have expected you to know that."

"That's one of the problems Ylisse is going to face soon." I say quietly, to make sure no one else can hear. "In the game, two years after Gangrel's fall, Valm attacks Ferox after having taken over the rest of its own continent."

"So Rosanne will fall." Virion says quietly. "As I feared."

"It will be freed afterwards." I say. "If it is any condolence."

"I suppose it is better than permanent subjugation." The duke sighs. "But that is a bitter dish to be served."

"There might be some things I can tell you that might help…" I say slowly. "First, I'll be telling Chrom about this, so hopefully they'll be inclined to help sooner rather than later, not waiting two whole years."

"That would be a help." Virion agrees.

"Additionally… are you familiar with someone called Say'ri?" I ask.

"The princess of Chon'sin? Indeed I am." Virion says. He's leaning forward on the table, clearly anticipating some important information.

"Well, Chron'sin is in an odd position when Walhart conquers it." I say. "Yen'fay, Say'ri's older brother, willingly submits to Walhart in order to keep her safe. This is under the threat of an assistant of Walhart's called Excellus."

"So you are telling me that if Say'ri can be kept safe, it might incline her brother to not submit?" Virion asks.

"Possibly." I nod. "I can't say for certain of course, but it seems likely."

"There may be some trouble in attempting to convince Say'ri to trust my words." Virion murmurs. "Do you, by chance, have some way to convince her?"

"Not directly. I don't know any of her secrets." I admit. "However… are you familiar with Tiki?"

"The Voice of Naga? Indeed I am." Virion nods.

"Well, Say'ri is close to her." I say. "And if Nah can talk to Naga, it makes sense that Naga's own daughter should be able to talk to Naga. Naga knows about my game knowledge and will probably back me up. So if you can get Tiki to verify some letter from me to Say'ri, we might be able to convince her that way."

"I see." Virion says. "It is a plan worth attempting at the very least."

We spend the better part of twenty minutes deciding what the letter should say. I just need some way for Say'ri to stay safe. Is that through keeping her with Virion? Or is just alerting them of the threat of Excellus enough? Do I need to say anything else to get them to not dismiss my letter out of hand? I am some random commoner sending a letter to a princess, albeit through Virion.

In the end we conclude the letter should be simple. I will inform Say'ri and Yen'fay of Excellus, and urge them to take steps to ensure they are protected and to not submit to his manipulations. If there is any doubt to my words, Tiki should be consulted so as to verify I am not making this all up (or at the very least confirming I do have "future" knowledge so as to be reasonable in making this suggestion).

Because Virion can't write the letter because his handwriting would be recognized, and I couldn't learn quickly enough for my handwriting to not be atrocious, we'll have to have someone else write the letter. Probably Morgan.

"There's one last thing I need to ask of you." I add once we're finished hashing out the letter. "You know how I mentioned more future kids?"

"Indeed."

"A number of them are located on your continent… what is the continent called exactly?"

"Valentia."

"There are a number of future kids located on Valentia. If you have any time or people to spare, it would be greatly helpful if you could round them up." I say. "If we can find a map, I can point out the rough locations and tell you about their general circumstances."

"I shall be busy, but I can certainly spare a few men to find these children, especially if they are as much a military asset as you seem to think." Virion agrees. "Allow me to fetch my map."

As Virion shows me the map of Valentia and explains what everything is, I learn a few things. So you know Valentia has three mini-continents separated by some water? There's the section where chapter 15 takes place with Say'ri that's vaguely rectangular, the area around chapter 20 which is Walhart that looks sort of like a circle, and then the areas where chapters 18 and 17 which looks like… uh… A distorted triangle? Something like that. Then, of course, we have the Mila Tree being in the middle of all of them at chapter 16. Three distinct land masses, and the Mila Tree. Each land mass is more or less a country. The rectangular area (where the first chapter in Valentia takes place) is Chon'sin, the lower triangle-ish area is mostly Rosanne, and the small circular area is Valm. Thank Naga, all the kids' paralogues are either in Chon'sin or Rosanne. Depending on how much Walhart has conquered, they might all still be accessible without going behind enemy lines.

"The only thing I should say is that Cherche needs to deal with this one." I say, pointing to Gerome's paralogue location. "Gerome is stubborn and won't want to come, so if anyone can convince him it's his own mother. The others shouldn't pose a problem."

"I see. I did not realize Cherche was a part of your game." Virion muses.

"Yeah, she usually joins at the beginning of the Valmese war." I say. "Sorry to put so much of a burden on your shoulders, but I still have some kids around Ylisse and Plegia to round up. Not as many as in Valm, but some."

"It is no trouble." Virion assures. "You have gifted me a potential alliance with Chon'sin through the letter you shall write, and possibly the help of Ylisse much earlier than expected. Fetching a few children is paltry compensation."

He makes it sound like I'm doing him some incredible service, but I'm just conveying information. I'm glad to help, but oddly enough I hope I don't get any great thanks for it. I haven't done anything to deserve it. I'm just a messenger.

It's a relief to have the Valmese kids covered though. I was worried about how we were going to have time to get all of them before the Valmese war, because detouring to get them during the war doesn't seem like a fantastic idea. Now we just have to worry about the Plegian kids and Laurent. Laurent is in Ylisse, which is easy, and Severa and Yarne are both close by each other… along with Dead King's Lament, Gangrel's paralogue.

I wonder if that might be worth checking too. On the other hand, with the war having finished so recently, enough time might not have passed to change his mindset. I don't even know if spotpass chapters are going to exist in this world. Gangrel might just be dead.

That's something to worry about at a later time I suppose.

"Incidentally, you were quite adamant in not revealing anyone's children, yet you revealed that Cherche had one so freely." Virion notes. "Why so?"

"Well like I said, Gerome is stubborn. If Cherche isn't going to talk to him, he's probably not going to come along. It's just a matter of practicality." I sigh. "Look, I _want_ to tell everyone about their kids, but they're not married yet. It would be awful to make people feel like they _should_ be in a relationship because of their kids even if they're not ready for it, and the only other option is to pick and choose who gets to know, which is equally cruel."

"Did it not occur to you to let the individuals choose if they want to hear the information or not?" Virion suggests. "We are not children, we are functional adults."

" _Everyone_ would have to agree then, because some of the kids are very much like their parents and even if I only tell one party it might be obvious who the other is." I say. I'm mostly thinking of Yarne (taguel), Severa (because of the hair), and Laurent (studious behaviour) if I have to tell their fathers. "Look, I'm sticking by my decision. No matter what I choose there's a downside, some cruelty. I'm choosing the path that will ruin as few relationships as possible."

Virion shakes his head. "I'm afraid you will make few friends among the Shepherds then. They will not appreciate what they see as patronizing."

"So be it. I never expected to have friends among the Shepherds anyhow." I say honestly. I expect the future children to be much more open to me than the first generation. My general situation is much more similar to them than to the first generation anyhow.

"As you wish." Virion says, clearly not approving of my decision. "I wish to depart within the month, so please have the letter written as soon as possible."

"I'll do so as soon as Morgan is free." I promise. I gesture to the chessboard. "When this whole mess is over with, I'd love to play a few more rounds with you."

That gets a smile. "I would be honored, though I'm afraid I won't be much more of a challenge without being able to practice. Perhaps I can introduce you to a favoured game of mine at some point?"

"I'll look forward to it."

###

Most of the Shepherds aren't sticking around for too long apparently. I overhear various plans to visit homes by most of them, though most will also return for Chrom and Maribelle's wedding. Not everyone is leaving though. Some people like Gregor and Nowi and Gaius don't really have anywhere else to be.

The Shepherds still have work to do as well, once everyone returns. Risen run rampant across the country, and while the Shepherds need a rest their might is still required afterwards.

I learn most of this from Kellam, who I think is happy that anyone is talking to him at all. However, soon he too needs to leave, and I'm finally left without trying to get my attention. All the talking has really tired me out. I feel like I spent two hours singing with how sore my throat is.

Nowi and Nah are out somewhere, they never came inside after Nowi wanted to see her dragon form. Kjelle and Sully went out on the town. I think they would have spent more time sparring if Sully wasn't genuinely exhausted from the long trip they apparently had yesterday. Noire and Tharja are… gone. I didn't see them leave, so who knows what's up with them. Morgan and Robin are still in the barracks, though I saw them move towards the bedrooms so I assume they're holed up in Robin's room.

That leaves me alone, and with an extremely rare moment of free time. I spent so much time over the last several months on the road and next to Morgan that I never actually realized just how little time I've had to myself.

I could do anything with my free time. I could go explore the city, I could get information on current world events from the people around me, I could do any number of things… and despite my anxiety about being alone, I _do_ go explore a bit. I have the palace as a convenient landmark, so getting lost thankfully isn't going to be a problem even if my sense of direction is terrible.

I don't have a plan as I wander around. I don't want to buy anything significant without running it by Morgan first, so my wandering is mostly just me taking note of shops and locations.

Surrounding the palace, as you might expect, are a bunch of expensive and gaudy houses. A rich neighbourhood, and one in which I look sorely out of place. I hurry though there and avoid making eye contact with anyone around me.

Just beyond the expensive houses are expensive shops (unsurprising now that I think about it), and those nab my interest. There are tailoring shops of course, fashion is a universal constant it seems, and some of the people I see going in and out of those places have truly ostentatious clothes and look more like Gangrel than Virion.

Fashion is gonna fashion, no matter how much the rest of the world raises their eyebrows.

In other news, there are restaurants, and those grab my attention. I'm aware that I maybe sorta totally owe Morgan for supporting my sorry ass for the last several months, so some sort of gift for her is on my mind. However, considering the rich clientele I see, I doubt my pathetic six silver is going to be able to afford any of these places.

I do spot a bookstore, which might be of interest once I learn to read. I need to remember that for later. It also occurs to me that if Robin was a tabletop wargamer in the future, there's probably a few shops for that here in Ylisstol. Morgan might find those of interest. A bit of searching does locate at least one of them, which is great.

I mention these minor things because I'm not finding anything too important. There are stores for a bunch of boring things like shoes or swords or what have you, but nothing that grabs my attention.

Eventually I stumble across a market square, and there I finally find things of interest. It's not the spice sellers or people hawking "exotic" items or what have you, but the simpler things. There's a man selling jewelry, from simple beads of amber to ornate and expensive gems and gold. There's another man selling tomes, from fire to thoron to some I don't recognize at all. I also locate someone selling magical curiosities. Trinkets really. A small wooden platform with a rune that will emit a small gust of air to balance a small ball on top of it, a stone that will magically heat itself, a cup that will freeze any liquid put into it, and so on. They're a bit too costly for me to actually consider buying, but I could see some actual practical use for a heating stone like that. If you're in a cold climate you can put in on top of, under, or in your bedroll to keep yourself warm. If it can make powerful heat, you could use it as a grill without needing a fire.

A heating stone… I'll try to remember that.

I'm drawn to the jewelry stand over time. Jewelry, or accessories of any sort, have never really been my thing. I'm more curious about it with Morgan in mind, I'd like to get her a gift of some sort… though I quickly realize that at no point has Morgan ever shown interest in jewelry. Impulsively I had made the connection between Morgan being a woman and jewelry, which is ridiculous when I actually consider what I know about Morgan.

What _do_ I know about Morgan though? She likes purple and black, she's a bit dirty-minded, likes to joke around, and I know about her father and how nervous she was about meeting him, but that's a shamefully small amount of information about her general likes and dislikes. She enjoys board games, I know that, but really what else do I know?

I don't know how much to look into that. Do I know so little because I don't pay attention, or is it because Morgan herself doesn't know what she enjoys due to her amnesia, and the constant travelling hasn't allowed her to figure out anything else?

" _Well no, wait, I am overlooking something_." I remember. Me and Morgan did a lot of shopping, not for anything important, but just for random trinkets that caught Morgan's eye. That's… that's honestly not much to go on either.

Well fuck. This is why getting a gift is hard: a bunch of second-guessing and my own inability to pay attention to other people.

So that's why I'm going to put stock in something my mother once told me. People tend to like a gift just because they got a gift. It's better if the gift is useful or personalized, but as long as the gift isn't painfully generic like _socks_ and the person isn't an asshole, they'll like whatever you get them.

This is my way of saying I buy the stupid heat rock. A _rock_. My first gift to Morgan is literally a rock. Wow. Amazing Nathan. What a moment to remember. It's a fancy magic heat rock, but it's literally a rock. As soon as I buy it I regret it. At least I managed to get the seller to drop the price a bit. This thing is _not_ worth five silver, no matter how many theoretic applications he wants to claim it has.

Well, too late now. I have the goddamn rock. Is this better than getting her nothing? I honestly don't know.

" _Calm down. This is Morgan you're talking about._ " I remind myself. " _If tolerance was an issue, she would have gotten rid of you a long time ago. Besides, she finds just about everything fascinating. The heat rock will be no exception. It's not like the rock is useless either._ "

So as to not make this whole excursion feel worthless, I find a place that will sell me a simple quill and ink set for one silver. If I'm going to learn to write, I don't want to waste Morgan's supplies. I'd like a fountain pen, if just because it's more like a normal pen than a quill, but those things are _expensive_. I'm talking _multiple gold_ levels of expensive for a single pen. They're a luxury item. No thank you. I also get a simple bronze sword now that I'm actually learning the weapon. Twenty copper.

I'm also running low on money now, and I suddenly remember that I'm dirt poor in this world. I'm not used to having this little money. I need to get more money, and I'd rather not mooch off Morgan more than I have to.

The sun is starting to set, and I realize I've been walking around for longer than I expected. Four hours, maybe more? How did I spend so long out here and yet find so little? It's with great reluctance that I start to make my way back to the barracks. This was supposed to be free time to myself, but I feel like I managed to _waste_ that time somehow.

I slink through the front door and can hear voices from the mess room. Is dinner soon? I left around one o'clock, so it's got to be five or six by now.

Peering into the dining room reveals… Morgan! Also Robin, of course. It must be time for dinner if they're not still holed up in Robin's room.

I'm deciding if I should enter and risk interrupting something or come back later, but Morgan makes that decision for me by flagging me down as soon as she sees me peeking around the entrance to the room. "Naaathan!"

"Mooorgan!" I parrot. She's waving me over, so I approach and stand to her side, opposite of Robin. Morgan pats the chair, so I sit. I'll admit this makes me nervous. Robin has his eyes on me, and I have to wonder what Morgan has said about me thus far.

I'm just gonna keep this rock in my pocket for now. Bad enough I chose a rock as a gift, I'm not showing the depths of my bad gift choices in front of Morgan's father too.

"What's up?" I ask.

"You tell me! You vanished, and without saying anything!" Morgan pouts. "I came out looking for you and you were gone!"

I wonder when that was. I was talking to people for a good long while. "Well you seemed occupied and everyone else was gone, so I investigated the town a bit. It turns out rich people dress weird. I swear one of the women was dressed as a chicken with all those feathers on her outfit."

"Was it hot outside?" Morgan asks.

Very random, but okay, whatever. "I guess. It's not quite summer yet, right? But it's certainly hotter than Ferox."

"So would you say the woman was a hot chick then?" Morgan asks.

Of _course_ Morgan would make that joke. I don't remember teaching her that exact slang, but she's sharp. I must have used it at some point and she deduced what it meant. "In a manner of speaking, yes, but not in the way you're implying."

I'm tempted to add "lewd girl" and poke her in the nose as I usually do, but Robin is right behind her so I refrain from that. I don't know Robin at all right now. I need to play it safe. I can't risk annoying Morgan's _father._

I think I understand why meeting the girlfriend's parents is always considered so scary in television shows and whatnot. Even without Robin saying anything I feel pressured to perform and try and present myself in my best light.

Whatever light that is.

"Did you find anything else?" Morgan asks. "Not just a warm chicken I presume."

"I discovered that restaurants are still expensive, and that there is indeed a wargaming store in town. Bookstores too."

"That it?"

"There were a lot of generic things." I shrug. "There was a guy selling magic trinkets I guess, but really nothing too interesting beyond what I've already told you."

"Was it just that dull without me around?" Morgan teases.

"Well yeah, but that's pretty standard." I see an opportunity to do a bit, but again hold myself back because of Robin. I think Morgan was expecting me to do something else too from the awkward silence after my words rather than an instant response from her. I guess we have a mutual sense of comedic timing at this point.

Is it comedic? I don't think that's the term, but it's the closest thing I can think of. Maybe dramatic timing? No, no, not quite that… ah whatever, the term doesn't matter.

Because Morgan isn't oblivious, she obviously takes note of how strange I'm being. "Not feeling it today?" She asks quietly.

I may be tired, but I always have time for you Morgan. It's literally just because of your father that I'm not doing our normal bits. "That's one way of putting it."

Morgan squints at me for a solid five seconds, then turns to her father. "Faaather!"

"What?"

"What did you do!?"

How on Earth did Morgan figure that out so quickly? That's also very unfair to Robin. He hasn't actually done anything, I'm just paranoid.

"I swear I haven't done anything." Robin says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I listened when you said he was skittish."

I'm not sure if I'm more embarrassed that my nervousness was noticed, or that Morgan felt it necessary to warn her father that I'm always nervous. She's right of course, but it's still embarrassing. "It's fine Morgan. He didn't do anything."

"Okay." Morgan says suspiciously.

"So what did you want me for?" I ask. "You were waving me over."

"I wanted my father to meet my boyfriend of course!" Morgan huffs.

Okay, so Morgan already told him about that. Cool. No pressure. "Oh."

"So Nathan, this is Father, you already know about him. He's super smart and all that. He already has some of those Multirealm figures!"

"Really?" I ask. He started collecting early huh? "Does he have the dragon lady already?"

"Not yet." Morgan says. "But yeah, super great tactician and all that."

"Better than you?" I tease.

"Well I never said _that_." Morgan scoffs and smiles. "We'll figure it out soon enough. Gonna play some games when he's not super tired."

"I'm sure you'll win." I reassure.

"Wow, way to insult my father right in front of his face Nathan." Morgan teases back.

"I mean, it's either insult my girlfriend or insult her father. There's no good option." I say.

"Nathan, it was a joke."

"I know." I say, and I did know, I'm just playing it safe.

Morgan squints at me again. "Are you _sure_ you're fine?"

"Yes Morgan."

"Totally positive?"

"Yes Morgan."

"If someone is giving you trouble I'll "deal with" them, no questions asked!"

"There's really nothing Morgan. Also, please don't do that."

"If you say so…" Morgan says reluctantly. She then turns to Robin. "So anyhow, Father, this is Nathan. He's great. I mean right now he's nervous for some reason, but he's great. Also cute."

"Subjective." I mutter.

"Subjective to me, and I'm always right!" Morgan says. "Therefore it's objective!"

"That's… that's not how that works."

"Yes it is, because I say so! Subjectively!"

"That's also not how that works."

"Shush!" Morgan pouts. "I'm the smart one here!"

I raise an eyebrow. "If you say so."

"I do!"

Robin coughs sharply, and we stop our usual back and forth. Robin is looking at me, and I'm struck by nervousness again.

"Well… I'm Robin." Robin says, and extends a hand to shake. "Apparently I have you to thank for keeping my daughter out of trouble."

"That's giving me a bit too much credit." I say, though I do cautiously shake the offered hand. We're both awkwardly leaning over Morgan who is between us to facilitate this shake. "I vaguely point the group in the right direction and let Morgan handle the rest. The only other thing I do is keep her entertained so she doesn't… I dunno, burn down a forest."

"I only set _one_ tree on fire!" Morgan protests. "And we stopped it before anything happened!"

"My point exactly." I jest. "I've done my job well. I also stop her from rolling into fires."

" _One time_ Nathan! That happened _one time_!" Morgan protests.

"Don't discount boredom as a threat to a soldier." Robin says. "The Shepherds can tell you that solid companionship is just as valuable as a good meal."

What a very power-of-friendship thing of you to say Robin. Not that I disagree, but I'm not used to people actually admitting such a thing. Apparently mental health is a concept that exists here. Good to know.

"Well, I've at least managed companionship." I say. "But Morgan has pulled most of the weight otherwise. She's been keeping my sorry self alive."

"She told me you would say that." Robin says. "And also that it's not true."

Morgan smiles smugly, and I raise an eyebrow at her. I then point a finger at her. "You shouldn't lie to your father."

"It's not a lie!"

"Doubt."

Morgan doesn't dignify that was a further response, and settles for more smug smiling.

"Well then." I sigh, looking again at Robin. "You can decide that yourself."

"I will." Robin agrees. "Incidentally, Morgan couldn't stop talking about you."

Morgan, please don't tell me you tried to make me sound amazing. I'm only going to end up disappointing your father and ruining everything. "Well, we quite literally haven't been apart for more than a few hours at a time over the last several months. So I suppose it isn't surprising that she's rather attached." And I'm rather attached to her in turn.

"By the way." Robin says, and leans forward. "I suppose I should just say this outright, Morgan has explained various things the two of you do on a regular basis. The roleplay, you carrying her, sharing a bed, and so on."

"Oh." Is that bad? He's not smiling. That might be bad.

"Father…" Morgan says in a warning tone. Her smile is gone, replaced with a thin-lipped squint of judgement. Robin ignores her.

"Firstly, while I don't exactly approve, I'm not going to be one to stop you." Robin says. "You're adults, and if you think you know what you're doing I won't complain. However, I will warn you that the upper class, especially the Ylissian upper class, is rather uptight and you may find it to your benefit to be _discreet_ if you plan on… fooling around. Especially considering you are neither married nor formally courting."

I totally forgot how anal certain groups in medeival times could be about that sort of thing. I guess this also means that Morgan might have a semi-important position for being the daughter of the Shepherd's tactician, or else this warning would be much less relevant. Robin is probably an aristocrat by virtue of being the Shepherds' tactician and also a mind behind the Ylisse-Plegia war in general, and therefore Morgan is also technically an aristocrat now.

"Fair enough. That's more of an open mindset than I've seen in most adults where I come from." I say. I appreciate the warning in fact.

"I'm glad I have your approval." Robin says with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, uh, sorry."

He waves it off. "If condescension, especially accidental condescension, was enough to offend me I'd have been at Miriel, Vaike, and Frederick's throats within a day of knowing them."

Point. Also Maribelle I imagine, but I doubt he wants to speak ill of the soon-to-be queen.

"And at least you apologize." Robin says under his breath. I'm sensing an itty bitty amount of resentment in our friendly neighbourhood tactician here. "But it's fine. I understand where you're coming from."

"Right."

A bit of an awkward silence settles over our trio after that, and Morgan eventually claps her hands to break it. "Okay, I'm gonna go see if dinner is going to be happening soon. You two have fun. Play nice Father."

With that, Morgan gets out of her seat and walks to the kitchen, leaving me alone with Robin.

After Morgan is out of sight, Robin sighs and says. "We're not even eating here, we're going out. We were talking about that minutes before you arrived."

"She's usually less transparent about this sort of thing." I note. "Normally I can't tell when she's manipulating me. I only learn about it because she tells me after the fact."

"And you're fine with her manipulating you?"

"It's always well-intentioned, and she never does anything serious without consulting me." I say. I'm thinking about those times where she nudged me to talk to strangers by _conveniently_ being occupied with something else. "So yeah, I'm fine with it."

There's another small silence before Robin says "I had to talk her down from going out to find you. She seemed convinced that you might be in trouble."

"Honestly, that's probably a good impulse from her." I grimace. "I tend to stand out, and talking to people isn't my strong suit. In hindsight, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm a walking target for thieves and lowlifes. My self-defence skills aren't nearly up to par with everyone else either."

"Hmm…" Robin hums. "And yet you survived this far."

"By hiding behind Morgan." I say honestly. I'm probably not endearing myself to him, but I'd prefer honesty. Lies will only bite me in the ass later down the road. "I'm not much of a fighter, nor do I want to be. My primary contribution to the group was my sort-of future knowledge… and maybe singing a lot to make travel less monotonous."

"Morgan mentioned some of your songs. They sound… interesting."

"Yeah that's one way of putting it. They're weird by this world's standards. Actually, some of them were weird by my world's standards too." I muse.

"I see…" Robin says. "Nathan."

"Yeah?"

"May I be frank?"

"Sure." Here we go. The "I don't like you" speech. That's what I'm expecting.

"I have no idea what I'm doing, and I don't know what to think about you." He confesses. "The fact that I have a daughter now is already quite a bit to handle, and she thinks the world of you, but I think we both know there's a bit of exaggeration and ignorance of your flaws in her assessment."

"Can confirm." I agree.

"And at the same time, you seem to want me to believe the complete opposite. Morgan told me you would downplay anything positive about yourself, and so far almost everything I've seen reinforces that assessment." Robin says. "So I'm left in an odd position. I cannot say I distrust you. Morgan may think too highly of you, but at the same time she does not strike me as stupid and likely chose you for a good reason. Yet also, I see many signs of weakness in you that make me wary."

"That's a fair assessment." I say. "I'm nothing impressive, that's for sure."

"Make no mistake. I don't dislike you." Robin says. "You seem like a fine person. Speaking to you now hasn't changed that perception. It's simply a matter that I want to have high standards for people surrounding my daughter."

I mean, I can't argue with that. A parent wants the best for their child. Even if they just met their child six hours ago and that child is an adult. "Well, hopefully I'll meet some of those standards. Eventually. It's not going to be in the next month, no matter how much either of us want that to be the case."

"I wouldn't expect that." Robin says, and then smiles. "And admittedly I have only spoken to you for ten minutes at best. Any assessment on my part is admittedly light on the evidence side of things and therefore tenuous, so let's not put too much importance on it."

And yet we went through the whole routine of you analyzing my character anyways. It wasn't a threat but he did give me a warning, if indirectly, that he's watching me.

"And honestly, I'm expecting my opinion isn't going to matter very much considering how… _willful_ … Morgan seems." Robin sighs.

"Yeah." I say, also smiling. "That's one word to describe Morgan."

"So, are we good?" Morgan says, and pokes her head around the entryway. "Or do I have to pretend to be busy for a bit longer?"

Not even trying to hide it, are we Morgan? Robin also seems rather chill, so maybe I can make a joke. "Now Morgan, the men are talking. Back in the kitchen with you."

A wide smile crosses Morgan's face. "Yes dear, sorry dear." She simpers. "Do you want stew or roast pheasant?"

"I want a whole boar woman! Are you not pulling your weight?" I bark. " _Boar_! I always want boar! Are you deaf as well as stupid?"

"Of course dear, sorry dear." Morgan repeats, trying to act meek but failing because of the stupid grin on her face. "I'll get right on it."

She vanishes behind the wall for a few seconds, then peeks out again. "Uh, there's nothing I can really do to keep the act up."

"Eh, I didn't really think it through anyways." I shrug.

Morgan skips over to our side again. Robin watched the whole interaction in silence with a raised eyebrow but no other reaction.

"So!" Morgan says, and grabs my arm while looking at her father. "Where are we going?"

"Morgan, I'm not coming."

"You are." Morgan says.

"Morgan…." I say gently. "I'm not going to intrude on your time with your father."

"Nathan, if you don't come with us, what exactly were you going to do for dinner? The Shepherds aren't eating here. Pretty much everyone is gone." Morgan says. "Be honest."

"Probably going to find some tavern with cheap enough food for me to afford." I say sheepishly.

"My point exactly, and you would have been nervous the entire time because you were alone." Morgan huffs. "So you're coming with us."

"I don't want to intrude…"

"Non-negotiable! Come on!" Morgan insists, pulling me up.

"Come along Nathan." Robin sighs and rises from his chair. "We both know how this will end."

Yeah, we do. Morgan will get what she wants, one way or another. That said, I'm absolutely going to make her spend a day with her father _without_ me at some point soon. As much as I appreciate her thinking of me, this really isn't the time for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan uses his game knowledge to convince the Shepherds that future kids are a thing with surprising ease… probably because between exhaustion, the undead, and transforming dragon and rabbit girls, future kids are just another item on the pile of crazy shit the Shepherds are already dealing with.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, going into this I have no idea how I'm going to handle this chapter. I have a few vague benchmarks I want to touch on, but no smooth way to transition to them. I don't want this chapter to be almost all plot like the last one was.
> 
> We'll see what happens.

Despite having the most comfortable bed I've slept in so far in this world, last night was not a particularly good sleep. I think it might have something to do with not having Morgan around. Part of what I mentioned before about us never spending more than a few hours apart also includes at night. She was always either sleeping in the same bed as me, or else her bedroll was next to mine.

I'm so used to hearing her breathing that it actually made falling asleep rather difficult. Just something else to get used to I suppose.

Dinner last night was also awkward. Me and Morgan didn't banter like we usually would because I was still wary of Robin, and Robin asked a few questions but otherwise wasn't very chatty. Morgan really tried her best to carry the night, but even her immense charisma could only do so much.

Anyhow… I wake up early this morning, and not exactly by choice. A knock at the door to my room wakes me. I'm sleeping in the Shepherds' barracks. Despite being a barracks, there are individual rooms. Small rooms, granted, but individual.

I'm about to complain at Morgan for waking me up, but it's not her voice that comes through the door. "Nathan. My pardon to wake you so early, but I have business to attend to after breakfast that will occupy my entire day, and I wish to speak with you before that."

Robin was not the person I expected to have knocking at my door, but I can't exactly ignore him. I drag myself out of bed, into my clothes, and to the door. "Sure, what is it?"

It's sunup, barely five thirty. That's way too early to be up in my opinion. Still, we sit ourselves down in the mess hall (apparently Robin's office is in the palace, not here, or else we'd talk in there) and Robin brandishes a quill and parchment.

"I've been made aware that you have vague knowledge of future events." He says. "And seeing as many of my meetings in the near future are going to involve planning for the future of Ylisse, I need this information as soon as possible."

Fair enough. I only shared major future details with Chrom and Virion for simplicity's sake, and there's nothing quite like a firsthand source, so I guess I'm re-explaining everything.

I give him the bullet notes version of the Awakening's major events: Valm's attempted invasion of Ferox, getting boats from Plegia and meeting Henry and the Hierophant, meeting Say'ri (I briefly explain the plan involving Virion) and the situation with Yen'fay, the Mila Tree and Tiki, Execellus' role in everything, Basilio fake-dying to Walhart, how the showdown with Walhart goes, how Robin is supposed to lose the Fire Emblem and all the gems to mind-control bullshit and the Validar showdown (judging by how his brow furrows and the nod of recognition he gives when I describe the usual cutscene of him "betraying" Chrom, he _did_ get the premonition before he woke up near Southtown), and then Grima's rise and the sadistic choice in Awakening's ending.

Through this I don't reveal Lucina's identity. I simply mention that Marth helps and joins the Shepherds and reveals that the future children exist. I suppose it's not a major issue if Lucina's identity is revealed at this point, but it feels rude to take away her choice to remain incognito.

I also make sure to mention the extra paralogues. Aversa, Walhart, Gangrel, Priam, Yen'fay, and Emmeyn (though I suppose Emmeyn is still alive so that's redundant).

Robin listens in silence for the most part, taking sharp notes that I can't read because _it's a different written language goddamnit_. After I run out of major events to mention he finally sets down his quill.

"Always wonderful to know choosing not to die means the world will continuously suffer." Robin grumbles under his breath. "Well thank you for the information. I'll keep it all in mind. Also, incidentally, next time you're making plans with the ruler of a country, maybe consider involving a representative from the country you're _currently in_ especially if it also involves them to a certain extent."

That must be in reference to me planning with Virion. "It's not illegal to make plans with other people, and I said I'd tell someone like you or Chrom about it."

"Yes, but it involves Ylisse." Robin stresses. " _You_ can't negotiate for Ylisse."

"Since when am I doing that? I'm just helping Valentia not fall to pieces, and I only said that I'd try to get Ylisse into action earlier. I never said I spoke for Ylisse, and I didn't guarantee anything." I say. This seems like a very arbitrary thing to argue about. "And it's Virion, Robin, not some random diplomat. He _knows_ I don't speak for Ylisse because I'm from another world, and I didn't give sensitive information regarding Ylisse."

"But you shared sensitive information overall." Robin says tersely. "You can't share vital information like that so easily."

"And why not?" I frown. "Virion's country is in the line of fire, and he's an _ally_. How is this even an issue? It's not like I'm handing this information to Gangrel or something."

"But Ylisse could have made better use of the information than handing it away for free." Robin insists.

Oh. Oooh… He's one of _those_ people. Okay. Well, one of two kinds of people. I need to figure out which. "And why is that?"

"Because it's impossible to know what Virion is really thinking, or what the other major players of Rosanne will think." Robin says. "It's better if Ylisse can bargain with the information for a concrete advantage rather than leaving it up to Rosanne to try and solve the problem. That's equivalent to rolling the dice, and we don't play dice with people's lives."

I'm still not sure if he's a hardcore Ylissian patriot, or if he just doesn't trust other people to be as good as he is at strategizing. Maybe both? Alternatively, he might have the illogical mindset that anything he doesn't know is something other people can't know. I imagine that wouldn't be a conscious thought process because it's obviously illogical, but it might be a blind spot for him.

No matter what, I don't agree. I understand the fears and ideas associated with those thought processes, but I don't agree. "Robin, handing over information for free is not rolling dice. Virion and Rosanne will know what's coming, which allows them to prepare, which _will_ lead to a better outcome if literally anyone listens to Virion. It's only rolling dice in the sense in that we can't guarantee how _much_ it will help, but it _will_ help. Additionally, bargaining for the information would only be taking resources _away_ from Rosanne, and they need everything they can get to stall Valm's advance."

"But Ylisse could use those resources more efficiently." Robin argues. "Yes, Rosanne needs resources to deal with Valm. I'm not saying we'd demand the majority of their food supplies or something, but anything they can afford to give us would be much better used by Ylisse."

"By that logic you'd want all extraneous resources in Ylisse's hands." I say. I don't bother to hide my disapproval. "And besides, it's just a dick move to demand compensation for information vital to _saving the world_ and stopping a tyrant. Even if you are correct logically speaking and Ylisse could better use resources from Rosanne, that doesn't mean you are correct from a moral standpoint. That's like demanding money from someone to give them medicine to save their life. Even if they can easily afford it, you're still an asshole for demanding it."

"War doesn't care about how much of a dastard either side is. It just cares about who wins and who loses." Robin defends. "If Ylisse can better use the resources, it doesn't matter if it's rude or not. Practicality has to be our primary concern. What if one thousand gold in Ylisse's hands rather than Rosanne's is the way the war is won or lost?"

"By that logic, why doesn't all of Rosanne just subject itself to Ylisse's governance because Ylisse can so clearly do a better job?" I shoot back.

"I- of course not." Robin frowns. "That's completely unrelated."

"Not so. You're saying Ylisse can do a better job with resources than Rosanne, so wouldn't it make sense that if Ylisse had _all_ of Rosanne under its control it could do a better job at dealing with the war because it has access to _all_ of Rosanne's resources? And there's no excuse of not making them give up vital resources either, because it's all for Ylisse to manage now and Ylisse should know what's vital and what's not." I say.

"That's… no." Robin says. "That's not right either."

"What makes it not right? You said Ylisse can make better use of resources than Rosanne, and Rosanne letting Ylisse take control of it makes _all_ extra resources available to it."

"But that could be done without Ylisse taking control."

"Could it? How do you know Rosanne isn't wasting something?" I prod. I'm well aware that's a stupid question. Of _course_ something is being wasted in Rosanne, and so is it in Ylisse. The trick is to see if Robin will point that out or assume Ylisse is mostly perfect. "Ylisse must be more aware of how to efficiently spend it's resources, or else you wouldn't argue for "bargaining" to get some from Rosanne." And yes, I do put the word "bargaining" in air quotes with my fingers for Robin to see. I'm not exactly trying to hide that I think Robin is suggesting something closer to extortion than actual bargaining.

"It has more to do with Ylissian weapon and troop quality than things like food." Robin finally clarifies. "It is unlikely Ylisse could not run Rosanne better than the Rosannites themselves. Too much cultural dissonance would ensue for it to be effective for quite a while, not to mention the people would resent it. No, I am saying that Ylisse could use gold or metal more effectively because it can make better weapons than Rosanne with the same resources, and spend gold on recruiting and training better troops than Rosanne could with the same amount. In _that_ capacity, Ylisse could do better, hence why I argue for bargaining for resources. It is in Rosanne's interests as well for Ylisse to make best use their metal and gold."

Interesting argument, and honestly not the worst point to make. That also makes a lot more sense than just "Ylisse can do better because it's Ylisse". There was some logic behind Robin's suggestions, and the fact that it puts more power in _his_ capable hands is a bonus most likely.

"I still disagree." I say. "You could tell Rosanne how to make better weapons, and teach their own military personnel how to train better troops. But you make a more coherent point now at least."

"We can't give away Ylissian technology and techniques to Rosanne for free. Ylisse has to consider its own interests. It might be a solid short-term solution to Walhart, but in the long term Ylisse would have lost potent bargaining tools and possibly created a new military threat to themselves down the road. Perhaps not in this generation with Virion in charge, but there is no guarantee new rulers will be so amiable."

"Same could be said of Ylisse towards every other country. Need I remind you of Chrom's father? Is Rosanne not just as entitled to be able to defend itself against Ylisse and other threats as Ylisse itself?" I argue.

"I- well yes-" Robin frowns. "But Ylisse shouldn't abandon something unique to itself for free."

"True." I murmur. As much as I'm for acting morally and with good will, it doesn't make sense to just give away knowledge of military value for no cost without an extremely good reason. Acts of charity are nice, but that generally doesn't apply to giving away free guns. Sharing the cure to a deadly disease for free? That's just moral. Free guns? Eh… not unless you have to. That's begging for trouble, even if you're handing them to allies. "Well, uh, anyhow. That was a rousing philosophic or political debate. I don't know which one that counts as."

"Indeed. You've given something to think about later. " Robin says. He's still frowning, though it doesn't look like he's angry so much as contemplative. His voice suddenly drops to a whisper. "Anyhow, I have one last question."

"Shoot."

"Pardon?"

"Uh, go ahead." I've done that before, haven't I? Was it with Morgan, Noire, or Kjelle? How time flies.

"What do I do about Morgan?" He asks quietly. Suddenly I'm reminded that he's not just a genius tactician war hero, he's a nervous new parent. Right. I have to wonder how much effort it took for him to act calm and confident yesterday. How well is he _actually_ handling suddenly having an adult daughter? How much panic and uncertainty is he hiding? That goes for all the new parents actually. "What does she like? What does she hate? What am I supposed to do about her constant jokes? Am I going to seem overbearing if I keep trying to teach her how to act given her new status? I have no idea what I'm doing. I didn't have time to prepare for this."

Okay, yeah, he's freaking out just a little bit. "She likes playing board games, literally any board game so far. You can try to teach her about her status, but don't expect her to be super on board with anything she thinks is stuffy or arbitrary or pointless. If you have a sense of humor, regardless of what it is, give it a shot. So far Morgan has been totally okay with just about any sort of humor under the sun. Doesn't matter how dark or random it is." I try to think of something more useful to say. Everything I've said so far is pretty generic. "Uh… don't be afraid to be honest, and even blunt if you need to. It doesn't matter what it's about, even if it's about her in some fashion. Morgan isn't nearly as illogical as she might seem, she just doesn't usually act serious if she doesn't have to."

I hope that's good advice. I'm usually terrible at giving advice. Robin seems satisfied with it though, so I'm going to assume I said something useful.

"I'll keep that in mind." Robin says. "Thank you."

"No problem. Really don't sweat it. Unless you majorly screw up, Morgan probably won't care. She already thinks highly of you." I soothe.

"That's exactly what makes me worried." Robin sighs. He pockets the paper and quill and stands up from his seat. "Please keep Morgan out of trouble today."

"I'll try." I say. "Morgan is… well…"

"Willful?"

"Yeah."

"Just… try."

"I will." I smile. "I'll make sure she doesn't shank someone at least."

"Please do." Robin mutters.

###

"I forgot to give this to you yesterday." Is how I preface handing over the magic heating rock to Morgan. It's not even something I can activate myself, because it requires the barest shred of magic to do so and I don't have that. "Found it at the market, seemed like something you'd like. Not quite sure how useful it actually is."

I suppose I never described what the heating rock actually looks like. It's about the length of a pop can (or soda can for those of you that call it that), and looks like one of those smooth, ovular stones you can find on some beaches. It's light grey, with Tte only sign that it's in any way magic being a darker grey pattern on one side in the vague shape of a flame.

"Ooh!" Morgan grabs it out of my hand. "I presume it's a bit more than a rock?"

"Yeah, draw a circle on it with your finger and push."

Morgan does so, waits, and then her eyes light up. "It's warm! Woah…"

"Cool huh?"

"Yeah! This would have been really useful up in Ferox during the winter." Morgan says. "Coulda stuck this in my coat or bedroll to keep me warm. If we ever have to go back there I'll have to bring this!"

Yeah, it was ridiculous of me to be worried. This is Morgan. As much as we joke about it Morgan really doesn't have high standards, and I don't mean that as an insult. She can find interest or joy in just about anything, and I envy that.

"I guess this counts as my first birthday present ever, huh?" Morgan muses as she rolls the rock around in her hands. "A magic item as my first gift… you're setting the standard way too high Nathan."

Morgan, that's probably the cheapest magic item in the world. If anything, that's setting the bar low. Also, holy shit, that's right, her birthday is soon and I got her a fucking _rock_. Great job Nathan. At least she likes it, again, because she has low standards.

"You totally paid something like ten silver for this and got ripped off, didn't you?" Morgan says.

"Originally it was priced at five silver. I brought it down to two, and that's probably still more than the stone is worth." I say honestly. "But no. Not ten silver. Only two."

"Still overcharged. But that's better. You're not going to let me repay you for this are you?"

"It's a gift. If you effectively pay for it, that ruins the entire point." I huff.

"Fiiine." Morgan huffs. "Hey… didn't your birthday already pass by?"

"I mean, we hadn't even determined where my birthday would be until a little while ago." I say. "So that's sort of a moot point."

"Nope! Not gonna forget that! You can't make me!"

"Morgan…" I sigh fondly.

She pouts at me. "Whaaat? Don't you _want_ a gift?"

"I really don't need one. We're close to _your_ birthday, not mine." I say. I then poke her in the nose. "Besides, I have you. You're gift enough."

"Ooh…" A grin crosses her face. "So what would you say about _unwrapping_ your-"

I clamp a hand over her mouth before she can finish that sentence, and her eyes twinkle with laughter at my probably flushed face. "Lewd. Fucking. Girl."

Morgan promptly sticks out her tongue and licks the inside of my hand, causing me to wrench it away in surprise. Her grin is wide enough to almost break her face. She flicks her tongue at me. "Cutie."

"Screw you." I mumble without any real anger.

"Exactly! That was the joke!" Morgan says. "And then you so _rudely_ cut me off."

"Yeah yeah…"

"I hope you know you're adorable when you're embarrassed." Morgan teases. "And it only makes me want to do this more."

"I know." I say quietly. "I trust you to be reasonable."

"Of course!" Morgan says. "That goes without saying. I wouldn't want to scare off my own boyfriend, now would I?"

Scare me off? Yeah, fair enough. I've shown myself to be easily made nervous.

Morgan reaches forwards and squishes my cheeks. "Sooo cute."

"Morgaaan." I whine.

"Nathaaan." She parrots back my whine. "Deal with it! You always compliment me, so I get to compliment you for once!"

"But-"

"And for the last time, I'm _not_ being sarcastic! It's called personal opinion Nathan!"

"Fine…" I mumble, and allow her to run her fingers through my hair. It feels unnatural to get compliments. Unnatural enough that I tend to think any compliment I do get is sarcastic, or actually intended as an insult. That's part of why I'm so nervous right now. Even if I know Morgan is being honest, the compliments still feel like something abnormal.

Hopefully I'll get used to it.

###

Despite all the things we could be doing, me and Morgan bum around for half the day. We do some training, play some chess and barrels, and I listen to Morgan chatter about Robin and how awesome he is and all the stuff you'd expect of someone who just found their father.

For the other half of the day we actually do some more notable things. For one, we shop, and I finally get some clothes that aren't brigand-like, and we both now have more than one set of clothes.

Because Morgan doesn't mind spending a bit of money (and she pointedly reminds me that she won't let me try to pay her back) we find a tailor that can use magic to dye clothes whatever color we want, so I get my hands on two sets of black clothes and change into one immediately. Black is my favourite colour, and I don't care how completely out-of-place it makes me look to have a straight black shirt and pants. New, dark leather boots and a belt help the look. What look this is I don't quite know, but it's a look.

I'm going to have to replace all these clothes when I get my old body back, but whatever. I feel so much more comfortable, not just because the clothes are of better quality than my furs but also because these clothes feel like something I'd wear back on Earth: simple, grey or black clothes with no fancy designs and some comfortable boots. The material is different, and so outwardly my clothes don't quite match Earth-like clothes just because of the texture difference, but it's close enough for me.

Morgan also gets something simple, but she goes with a muted grey-purple shirt with darker purple on the collar and cuffs and dark brown pants. She also went with short-sleeve shirts, whereas I went with long sleeves. Morgan's style is also much more appropriate for this world insofar as her pants are slightly baggy and her shirt has actual noticeable segments to it (the area around her chest is slightly baggy and noticeable lighter in color, with a hemline distinguishing that area from the tighter area under it that is much more generic and slightly darker, though still light overall) whereas the uniform pure black of my clothes obliterates any noticeable details unless you squint and look close.

After some thought, I also get some dark green clothes that will make me stand out less (like Gregor's clothes, not the armor, but mostly dark green) and Morgan also gets a generic beige dress in case she needs to blend in. I also grab some travelling clothes, because otherwise I'd be wearing my furs again and I'd rather not do that. Morgan doesn't need those. She likes her cloak just fine.

After buying all that, we go back to the barracks and finally start on trying to teach me to write Ylissian. The first thing we do in that vein is map each Ylissian letter to a sound, which has some interesting results.

"What do you mean it's _two_ letters in your language?" Morgan frowns as she looks onto my page. "Wasn't that letter a "tuh" sound and that one a "hah" sound? So wouldn't combining those be "Tah" and not "thh"?"

"You'd think so, but no." Apparently we used to have a letter for the TH sound, it was called a thorn and looked like a b and p combined. One line with a small circle on one side of the middle. "That's just how our alphabet works."

"That seems really inconvenient. What if you actually need a "tah" sound?"

"Then spell i and not T H. Easy."

"It's still stupid."

"Just a little bit." I agree.

In the end we manage to hash out a translation page. Ylissian has two different letters for what we would cover in one vowel. So for what Earth covers under just the letter A, they have two letters for the "ah" and "ae" sounds respectively. They also don't have all the weird crossover sounds that English has between things like C and S where they can both have the hissing "sss" sound but C can also have the "cuh" sound (which K can also have for some reason, meaning C randomly crosses over with two otherwise unique letters and has no sound of it's own for basically no reason).

Language is weird, but the English alphabet is especially so.

Morgan looks utterly baffled when I explain how TION is pronounced "shun" and not "tee-on" and other odd nuances like that.

"How the heck do you remember all this?!" Morgan groans as she stares at the mess of exceptions and special cases I've written out. "Why is it so complicated?"

"You get used to it." I say with a smile. "I grew up with it, so it's nothing special to me. And it's complicated because it's a pretty old language that has changed a lot and spread over a wide and diverse geographic area, and the amalgamation of words and spellings borrowed from different cultures means that there are a bunch of arbitrary nuances built into the language both in terms of how things are pronounced and how they are spelt."

"Why does your language need _four different ways_ to make the "cuh" sound!?"

"That's just how it is." Incidentally, she's referring to K, C, X (like in Box), and QU (like in queue).

"Are people in your world masochists? Is that it? Is that why your language makes no sense!?"

"There are also silent letters."

Morgan throws up her hands in exasperation. "Of _course_ there are! Why wouldn't there be?! Thank Naga you're learning Ylissian and I'm not learning English!"

"Oh, by the way, try and pronounce this." I write down bologna on the paper.

"Bol-og-nah?"

"Bowl-oh-nee."

" _What_."

"Yep."

"Where does the E come from!?"

"I don't know."

"WHY!?"

"I don't know."

"Oh and…" I write down rough, though, cough, and through. "See how they all end in the same four letters?"

"Yeah."

"None of those rhyme."

Morgan buries her face in her hands and moans. "What the fuck is wrong with your langauge Nathan?"

"Oh, and "mie-noot" and and "min-ut" are spelt the same way."

"Stooop!"

It's a fun afternoon as I continue to regale Morgan with all the screwy things in English spelling.

###

Over the next few days we get a sense for what the Shepherds are going to be doing, and what that means for us.

The majority of the Shepherds are leaving for their homes for a few weeks, though they'll be back for Chrom and Maribelle's wedding. Kjelle wants to go with her mother, and Noire with hers. Nowi isn't going anywhere, so Nah is still around.

That leaves me, Morgan, and Nah still around to get Laurent… except it's not just us because some Shepherds are still here and don't mind coming along. Nowi for one, which means we have a second dragon, as well as Gregor and Gaius and Anna. Interestingly, Olivia is also staying here. Ylisstol is quite a ways away from Ferox, whereas Tharja's home isn't too far from the Ylissian border, so if Olivia were to leave for her home she wouldn't be back in time. The same goes for Lon'qu. All of them, despite being tired of fighting, are still willing to lend us a hand in fetching Laurent.

That gives us quite a squad: myself, Morgan, Nah, Nowi, Gregor, Gaius, Anna, Olivia, and Lon'qu. This also means we _finally_ have a healer in Anna. We can also travel by cart rather than foot, which is faster because horses have much more stamina than we do even if they're not actually moving that much faster. They don't have to rest as often. It's only thanks to the cart that we can do this excursion in a decent time frame and be back for the wedding.

However, before we leave, a few things happen. First, Emmeryn calls for me and the future children. I might have explained everything to Chrom, but as the ruling Exalt of Ylisse I can see why Emmeryn would want to hear the story for herself rather than second-hand.

I've explained this multiple times to multiple people, and barring the fact that I'm explaining to Emmeryn it's the same tale as usual. The future kids give their version of things, and explain what the ruined future is like, and that's about it for the conversation.

Emmeryn is a lot more intimidating than I thought she'd be, though I think that might be because I know she's the Exalt. Maybe it's her _status_ that's intimidating more than her personality, because even I can realize there isn't much that can be said to be scary about Emmeryn's personality.

The second major thing that happens is that we (me and the future kids) also need to explain everything to Emmeryn's council. That means Phila and some other military generals, representatives from the dukes, and other people I don't bother to keep track of because I honestly don't care. Thankfully Morgan carries most of the explanation because she's good at talking with people. She's heard my story enough times that she can explain most of it herself, with me filling in small details. We give the council a simplified version rather than shoving in all possible details like we did with Emmeryn.

I can see the poorly-hidden scoffs and disbelief on the faces of most of the councillors, and I'm not surprised. I don't have any information about them I can leverage to gain their trust. To them, even if they knew about my knowledge of the Shepherds, it could easily be dismissed as me having overheard secrets from one of the Shepherds or stolen some secret document rather than future-like game knowledge. There are other, simpler explanations for how I know what I know, and so they have no real reason to think I actually know the future.

The Shepherds can buy my explanation because my knowledge is far too varied in that it covers a lot of details that some of the Shepherds haven't even revealed yet, but the council probably isn't going to care about that distinction.

Oh, and I should also mention that I get Morgan to write the letter for Virion. That's sort of important.

After the nerve-wracking and mostly pointless endeavor of talking to the council, we finally leave to go get Laurent.

Our travel for the first day is rather quiet. The Shepherds are still recovering from their travel to a certain extent, so they're mostly quiet. Most people rest in one of the two carts we have (one is Anna's personal cart with all her wares) and don't talk all that much. The only exception is Nowi, who seems to have boundless energy and won't stop talking.

Nah is clearly tired of her mother already, though she has much more patience than their in-game supports would suggest and hasn't said anything rude yet. Or, at least, she hasn't said anything that the rest of us can hear. I suppose it would make sense for supports to mostly happen in private, or just not out in front of everyone.

But really nothing happens for most of the day. The only thing of note is a small argument between Morgan and Gregor about when we should stop, and Morgan wins out by asserting that she is in charge and having Me and Nah back her up.

That gets a few raised eyebrows from Gregor and Lon'qu, but they don't push the issue further. They're here to help us after all. I wonder if this would be different if it were a mission of the Shepherds rather than an informal mission they decided to help with. Would Gregor have tried to insist that Morgan wasn't in charge?

Either way, thankfully it's a non-issue this time around.

###

The Risen are relentless. They're not all that threatening, but they're relentless. I also finally have enough people around me that I really don't have to participate anymore. Having two manaketes also helps.

I still pull out my crossbow and take pot-shots of course. I'm still expected to help, and so I will, but I can feel safe that I don't have to be anywhere near our opponents anymore.

Interesting to note is that Morgan and Nah already seem to be on par with the Shepherds. Nah and Nowi's kill counts are about the same, and Morgan- there's no mage to compare against her admittedly- gets her fair share of kills as well.

Oh, and Olivia. I should talk about Olivia. So, in the game dancers work by giving other units another turn, right? It doesn't work like that here. Being a dancer here is something much more dangerous, but much more impressive.

Olivia fights. She doesn't stay in the back with the long-range fighters like you'd expect. She's right in the middle of battle along with Lon'qu and Gregor. The difference is that she's not fighting in a way that maximizes how much damage she does, she's fighting to impress. Twists, twirls, flips, and elegantly choreographed series of attacks are common.

Olivia is a proper battle dancer. She inspires others with feats of skill and the _art_ of battle, not normal dancing like the game would suggest.

If anything, the way Olivia fights is most like what you see in the game. Gregor and Lon'qu are practical in how they fight, but Olivia shows off like she's in a play (which, considering she's a dancer, makes sense).

Olivia can also do normal dances though, and at an eager request from Morgan she demonstrates a few after we've set up camp for the night. Those dances are… erm… well they're very _sensual_ , and that's only accentuated by Olivia's outfit.

Morgan watches raptly, not even making cheeky comments to me like she usually would. I guess she's too focused on her mother to bother with that.

I'll admit that while I enjoy Olivia's dances, I don't really know enough about dance to be able to appreciate what Olivia is doing on an artistic level. Her dances are enjoyable on the level of "attractive lady in skimpy clothing showing off her body" of course, but I feel disappointed in myself to only be able to appreciate the dances on that level… even if I realize the dances are (probably) _intentionally_ designed to evoke that response and I'm no different than most people viewing the dance and not really doing anything wrong.

It's not a surprise when Morgan gushes about her mother that night. "Did you see that backflip!? She went right over that Risen's head! And then she did this cool twisting stabby thing, and her normal dances are great too! Her outfit is just _perfect_ for those, not to mention her body is just _mmm!_ "

"Morgan, this is your mother you're talking about."

"And?" She says defensively. "My mom is hot! Even I can recognize that!"

Those are words I never thought I'd hear.

"Are you saying you don't think my mom is hot Nathan?" Morgan teases.

"No comment."

"Don't think I didn't see you appreciating those hips too!"

"Ookay, and we're changing the subject…" I cough.

"Not until you admit my mom is hot!"

"Fine, she's hot." I groan. "Everyone is hot for some reason though! All the Shepherds, all the future kids, it's unnatural! I don't know what sort of magic this world has to make everyone ridiculously attractive, but I both appreciate and despise it!"

"Hard not to ogle some butts?"

I don't bother with my usual "lewd girl" comment and go straight to poking her in the nose. "No. I mean, _yes_ , but screw you for getting me to admit that."

"Hey, no judgement here." Morgan chirps. "Not like I don't appreciate the uh… what's the term…?"

"Eye candy?"

"Yeah! I appreciate the eye-candy of being surrounded by some _delicious_ young men and women." Morgan says with a wide, shameless grin. "Including my mother."

You're awful in the best way Morgan, and at this point I expect no less. "It really is unnatural, isn't it?"

"I know! I hope it never stops! I'm more than content if half the people we come across are some degree of ridiculously attractive." Morgan says cheerfully.

"It's also uncanny how close everyone is to their in-game portraits." I say. "I've recognized every Shepherd and future kid on sight so far, though there are _some_ differences."

"Like what?"

"Well… not that this is going to mean much to you, but you look closer to your Heroes portrait than your Awakening one. Your outfit is the same as your Awakening one, but in terms of physical appearance you're closer to your Heroes portrait." That feels like an insufficient explanation. She has no idea of what either of those portraits look like beyond what they reference. "Not that the portraits are all that different in physical appearance, but your Heroes look has slightly softer features and less muted colours."

"So what I'm hearing is that I'm way more cute in my Heroes portrait."

"Yep. That portrait also tints your hair and eyes purple though."

"But my hair and eyes _are_ purple." Morgan says.

I pause. "They are?"

"Yeah."

"They both look dark brown or grey to me."

"It's hard to see." Morgan says. "Here, look close. _Really_ close."

And so I do. Morgan holds up the lantern so I can see and I lean in until our noses bump. I squint, trying to see the purple hidden in the grey (definitely grey and not brown) and after a minute of trying, I think I can see what she means. It's hard to notice in her eyes normally, but when the light hits them just the right way and doesn't bounce off, you can in fact see a very faint trace of purple. Her eyes are an _extremely_ muted shade of purple. Grey-purple you might say, with a heavy emphasis on grey.

"Okay." I say quietly. "I see it. That _is_ hard to see."

"Isn't it? I wish it was a bit more noticeable." Morgan says. "Nice purple hair. Or maybe dark purple, so dark it usually looks black, but when you shine a light on it my true colour would be revealed!"

"Very dramatic."

"Yeah! It would be awesome!" Morgan chirps. "Oh, oh, what outfit was I wearing in my Heroes portrait? You said the outfit was different, right?"

"Yeah, it's more like a dark flier outfit."

"Cool! What does that look like?"

Right. We haven't seen one of those yet. "Well, at least in your case you still had something like your cloak except it was much tighter all around, probably to reduce wind drag by being less baggy, and indeed at your upper thighs. It also had an area around the chest that looked a bit more like your shirt than your cloak. Uh… you have these cage-like arm-guards, dangling shields on your hips, same boots, and what I assume are thick stockings that come up just past your knees but don't meet the bottom of your coat/dress thing."

"You remember this in surprising detail." Morgan says with an amused grin. "Was I your faaavourite?"

"No." I say honestly. "But I liked the look. Purple and black has always been a nice color scheme, and your coat has always been cool."

"I'm your girlfriend Nathan! You're supposed to say I was your favourite!" She pouts.

"Oh really now?" I say, and raise an eyebrow. "Does that make me a bad boyfriend?"

"Yes! Terrible, awful, deal-breakingly bad!" Morgan announces. "I wasn't your favorite in some random game before you ever met me and that's without consideration for what I did in that game as well. How could I _not_ be offended?"

"I have no idea. What a massive oversight on my part." I say flatly. "Pardon my inexcusable lack of future vision and instinctive desire to lie in order to keep you satisfied."

"You are not pardoned. I'm furious. Really, truly." Morgan says with no hint of anger in her voice whatsoever. "Because I'm the best, and you're required to think I'm the best at everything, in everything, all the time, regardless of any other so-called 'legitimate' reasons otherwise."

"Of course, of course." I say, and pat her on the head. "I'll strive to be the most servile, pandering person on the planet to feed your ever-inflating ego."

"Damn straight!" Morgan says with a smile. "It's not like you feed my ego enough already."

"Not nearly enough." I smile back. "I've been too busy stopping you from rolling into fires."

Morgan's entire body slumps like a balloon that just got a hole poked in it. "I thought we were past that joke."

"What joke? I was mostly serious about that." I say. "I didn't keep putting logs and rocks between you and campfires for no reason."

"Rub it in why don't you?" Morgan pouts.

I plant my hand on her forehead and rub circles into it. "Done."

"Nathaaan." She whines.

"Morgaaan."

"Stooop."

"Nooo." I grin. "Make me."

So quickly that she had to have been waiting for those exact words, Morgan tackles me and knocks me onto my back, and then triumphantly sits on my chest. "There. I made you."

"No, you're just sitting on me."

"Oh?" A mischievous glint enters her eye. "Do I need to do more?"

"Uhh…" Where do I go from here? Is this still part of the joke? I suddenly feel out of my depth. "No?"

Morgan pauses, then tilts her head. "Nervous?"

"Yes?" I say. My voice cracks with that one, so I repeat it, and with more certainty this time. "Yes."

"Do you want me to get off?" She asks outright. Her voice is calm, and I have to wonder if that's intentionally so.

Do I? No, not really. "No."

"Cool." Morgan says. Her hands creep over my chest and shoulders and press against me in what feels like a massage. I'm struck by the feeling that I should be doing _something_ , but I have no idea what that would be. "Because I like this."

"Ah."

"You have that expression on your face that says you're thinking too hard about something."

"I feel like I should be doing something." I admit.

"Don't worry about it." Morgan says. "Relax…"

I try, I really do, but it's hard not to be acutely aware of the girl sitting on top of me. Morgan continues to explore me with her hands, running them over my arms and chest and shoulders before eventually moving on to my neck, for which she greatly softens her touch.

Do you know the reason people are ticklish in certain areas? It's an evolutionary self-defence mechanism. The areas in which we are ticklish are the areas in which we are extremely vulnerable, and being ticklish teaches us to defend those areas.

I bring this up because Morgan feeling my neck is actually quite uncomfortable. I can't help but be twitchy because I'm ticklish, and so Morgan quickly moves on.

"You're going to be different, eventually." Morgan murmurs as her hands explore my face. "When you get your body back, I'm going to have to learn you all over again."

Learn me? That's an interesting way to phrase it. Also, I never really considered how strange it's going to be for Morgan to see me change. It's not like I'm just going to be growing, I'm just going to _change_ , drastically. My eyes will no longer be brown and will be blue, my hair will become brown rather than black, I'll be caucasian rather than vaguely asian. Everything will change. It will be a return to normal for me, but for Morgan what she sees now _is_ normal.

"I'm not sure I can handle it if you get even more cute." Morgan teases gently as she runs her fingers through my hair.

"You're setting your expectations way too high." I mumble.

"I'm mostly joking." Morgan reassures. "I don't care if you end up being ugly Nathan. That's not why I like you. Your cute face certainly is a bonus, but it's hardly essential."

That's reassuring to hear, even if I knew it was never really in question.

The night ends on that note. Morgan spends a few more minutes running her hands over me, but she eventually stops and we call it a night.

I wonder how much intimacy Morgan is actually comfortable with, because she was totally fine with whatever that was. How much does she hold back? Am I being a bad partner due to my nervousness?

That… no. That sounds like something Morgan would mention. Morgan seems happy, and there's no need to worry unnecessarily.

###

You know, considering all manaketes in Awakening are of the divine dragon tribe, it makes sense that Manaketes would be revered in Ylisse. This goes especially considering Tiki is a manakete and she's an important religious figurehead.

That's why it's a big shock to me to find out most villagers are pretty freaked out by our two little dragon girls. I was expecting awe, not terror.

To be fair to the villagers, they were scrambling away from a Risen pack at the time, and their introduction to Nowi and Nah was the two of them flying directly overhead, roaring loudly, and spitting dragonfire. I can't blame them for being a bit shook.

"Johnny, come _here_!" The short-haired woman hisses, desperately beckoning for the small boy who wandered too close to our group. "Johnny!"

The little boy stops his waddling and turns to his mother, and then waddles back towards her outstretched arms. The woman shoots us a glare, specifically Nah, before yanking her child inside their house.

There was no thanks for saving this town. No gratitude from anyone, even though everyone here would have absolutely been slaughtered without us, and especially without Nah and Nowi.

I guess this had to happen at some point. The chance of us running into only grateful people all the time is statistically improbable.

"I don't think anyone is going to want to play with me." Nowi notes. Wherever she turns her eyes, people look away and shrink back into or behind buildings and trees and whatnot.

"Gregor will be playing with Nowi." Gregor says. He sounds almost offended that he's been forgotten about. "Is always having time for little dragon friend!"

"I wasn't talking about you silly." Nowi sighs. "I mean no one from the village is going to want to play. I'm not going to have any _new_ friends to play with."

"Oh, Nowi talking about scared mean villagers." Gregor says. "Is unfortunate. Gregor is used to this. Some people only see sword, and does not matter to them where sword is pointed. They do not see Gregor at all. Same with Nowi. Villagers see dragon, not girl, not Nowi."

"Yeah…" Nowi sighs. "Do we have to stay here? Can we leave?"

"We'd have to camp Mother." Nah points out. "And we'd be eating from our supplies rather than fresh food."

"I know." Nowi says with a frown. "But I don't want to stay here."

"Don't be selfish, Mother." Nah scolds.

"No, I agree with Nowi." I say. "We shouldn't stay here."

"Stay out Nathan." Nah says sharply.

"You made this a group matter when you started deciding whether all of us were staying or going, and I'm a part of the group." I shoot back. I raise my voice to involve everyone else. "Opinions?"

"We leave." Lon'qu agrees.

"Gregor is seeing no problem with this."

"I-I guess we can." Olivia murmurs.

"I'd rather stay, I want to sell some wares." Anna says. "But it's no huge loss if we don't."

"No opinion." Gaius says. "Don't see any candy."

"I say we leave." Morgan chirps. "And I think the vote is soundly in favor of leaving, so let's get what we need and get out."

Nah's expression darkens a bit, and she stays quiet as we go about purchasing supplies from nervous store-owners and leave before we've spent more than an hour and a half in the village. I figure that's mostly the end of the issue, so when Nah approaches me after dinner when Morgan has stepped away to bathe I'm more than a little surprised.

"You." Nah says.

I look up from the new crossbow bolt I'm making. Virion taught me how to improvise stone heads for arrows, and rather than the wooden ones I've been using so far I want to try those so I'm trying to apply those lessons to my bolts. So far, no luck. I think I'm going to have to just custom order iron bolts when we get back to Ylisstol. "I have a name, or have you forgotten? I can call you "dragon loli" from now if you really don't want to use names."

Nah's eyes narrow. "I don't want to know what that means, and that sounded like a threat."

"Sorta was." I say calmly. "So, are we using names or not?"

"Fine, _Nathan_." Nah says in irritation.

"Nah." I nod. "So, what's up?"

"Don't encourage my mother's behaviour." Nah says bluntly. "The reason we're sitting out here in a forest is because _you_ made it a group debate and implied we should leave because Mother wanted to."

Strictly speaking Nowi made it a group matter, and I just brought it to everyone's attention, but that's neither here nor there at the moment. "And? How is that a problem?"

Nah points a finger accusingly. "Because the whole group folded to my Mother being petty because _you_ enabled her!"

"I'm fairly sure that was going to happen either way." I say, trying to keep my calm. Nah seems unreasonably upset about this. "I'm fairly sure Gregor was going to agree that we leave one way or another, I simply said it before him."

"You don't know that, and it doesn't remove the fact that _you_ started it." Nah insists.

"That's true." I agree. "But this is really a moot point. The only thing I 'enabled' was getting Nowi _and you_ out of a situation where you would have been uncomfortable."

"I didn't ask you to do that." Nah snaps. "I didn't ask to be _saved_."

That's not exactly what I intended but in hindsight, yeah, I suppose "saving" them was sort of what I was trying to do. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing like Nah is implying it is though. "Perhaps not, but Nowi wanted out, so we left. It would have been the same if Gregor didn't want to be around there, or Morgan. Unless there's a good reason for us to stay among rude people, why would we?"

"Because that's a petty reason to leave!" Nah insists.

"Really now?" I say, and cross my arms. "Nah, who would you consider your friend?"

"What does that have to do with this?"

"I'm trying to make a point through example." I say honestly. "So, who would you consider a friend?"

"Laurent."

Not what I was expecting, but okay. I thought it would be Gerome or Lucina to be honest, just because they're overly-serious like Nah. I can work with this though. It doesn't really matter who she chose. "Okay, so, let's say you're in a bar."

"I don't drink."

Neither do I. Yay sober crew. "That's fine, but you're in a bar."

"Okay…?"

"You're sitting at a table with Laurent."

"R-Right."

Why does she look nervous about this? It's just an example. "So you're both sitting there, and then you notice someone, some asshole, is glaring at you from across the room."

Nah nods.

"Not just once, continuously."

She nods again.

"And when you mention you're uncomfortable, Laurent tells you to suck it up."

Nah _instantly_ protests with an anger that, again, seems strangely out of place. "He wouldn't do that!"

"But you would."

"No I wouldn't!"

"You just did not an hour ago."

"I did not!"

"Nah, your mother was uncomfortable with people glaring at her, and your response was to tell her that she was being selfish." I say, still trying to keep my voice calm. "So, again, that's _exactly_ what you were doing."

"It's different!"

"Why? Because it's your mother?" I ask.

"No, because it involves the _group_." Nah stresses. "And we can't drag down the whole group for the sake of one member."

"And why not?" I counter. "Our mission isn't _that_ time sensitive, it's only a minor inconvenience, and none of us really liked the villagers anyways."

"That doesn't matter. Personal issues shouldn't affect the group." Nah insists.

"Yes, they should." I argue back. "At least, when the group can afford them to. If we desperately needed rest in decent beds from ages spent camping, sure, I'd agree that we should have pushed past Nowi's discomfort for the group's benefit. However, if we ignore personal issues even when we can easily afford to help with them, what we're establishing is that our individual members _don't matter_ , and I don't think any of us agree with that."

"I never said individuals didn't matter!"

"But their problems don't?"

"No!" Nah stops her foot. "It- but- it shouldn't get in the way of more pressing matters, and it shouldn't be made into the _group's_ problem!"

"I agree, to an extent. It absolutely shouldn't get in the way of more pressing matters, no question asked. We wouldn't prioritize Nowi's discomfort over saving someone's life, obviously. And as for it being made into the group's problem… well that depends on the size of the group I think, as well as if the members of the group _want_ it to be their problem."

"What in Naga's name are you talking about?" Nah frowns.

"If we were a whole battalion, a few hundred people, then yeah, we couldn't really afford to move everyone just because of Nowi's discomfort." I say. "But, imagine it was just two people. You and your mother. Would you really force her to stay there just because _you_ want to stay?"

"Well no…"

"And there's my point. We're at a small enough group size that we can afford to do these sorts of things." I say. "Also, in case you haven't noticed, most people are some degree of friends here, and so far they've generally seemed happy to take on other people's problems, so even if you wanted to argue our group is too large to take into account individual problems it's still a moot point."

Nah crosses her arms. "That doesn't mean Mother should have tried to make her problem into the group's problem."

I raise an eyebrow. "I thought _I_ was the one who made it a group problem. Also, she didn't. She just said she wanted to leave, and the rest of us agreed. Would you rather people say nothing when they're uncomfortable or having trouble?"

"Yes."

I… uh… how am I supposed to respond to that? That was supposed to be a rhetorical question. Okay then. Let's try this. "So if I'm bleeding out, I should say nothing?"

"Don't be absurd. I mean personal problems. Injury and death are group issues." Nah scoffs.

Yeah, fair point. That was a stupid suggestion. Think Nathan. You know how to dissect arguments. You can find something wrong with her idea. That was basically the goal of all your philosophy assignments for four years: finding the problems with arguments. This should be easy. "How about, even if I'm being harassed at every turn, if it would bring down the group I should stay silent?"

"Yes."

Okay then. "What reason do I have to stay a part of the group then?"

"...what?"

"If the group won't support me when I need it, why should I be a part of the group?"

"Because the group has a bigger purpose than individual issues."

"And?"

"What do you mean, "and?"?"

"If the group is big enough that I don't matter, then it's big enough that me leaving for the sake of my own health doesn't matter." I say. "Even the loss of a dragon is a lot less relevant when they're only equivalent to a hundred soldiers in a group of ten-thousand."

"If that's the case then the greater goal must not matter to you very much." Nah retorts.

"Not so. It's just that I can't very well be expected to deal with bigger issues when my personal issues are too great for me to deal with."

"That's called a lack of conviction, not incapability." she scoffs.

"So what?" I ask in frustration. "You'd have people allow their personal and internal lives to fall to shambles just so they can contribute a statistically insignificant amount to some greater cause?"

"Yes!" Nah says in exasperation.

"What sort of callous disregard for people's health do you _have_?" I ask in obvious disgust.

"What sort of death wish do _you_ have?" Nah counters. "The end of the world is coming, and you're worried about mental health and individual lives? _Everyone_ is going to die if we aren't prepared!"

Both of us glare at each other for a solid ten seconds. This conversation has also been going on long enough that Morgan returns, and since she's not blind she can see the tension in the air between us and speaks up. "What happened?"

"He's being ridiculous." Nah huffs.

"She's being callous." I say quietly.

"Right…" Morgan says slowly. "So let's start from the top, shall we?"

We quickly run through our argument again. I think Nah is going along with this because she expects Morgan to agree with her, though the same could be said of me. We're effectively letting Morgan decide a winner here… though I have to say that if Morgan agrees with Nah and really does have so little consideration for the lives of others, I'm going to… I… we'll have to talk.

"Okay." Morgan frowns. "So, let me get this straight. You both decided that personal issues are occasionally relevant provided a group is small enough, or that the group as a whole makes a personal problem all of their problems."

"Yes." Me and Nah both say, though Nah with more reluctance. I don't think she's happy about me winning that point.

"And now the argument is about whether someone has a right to mention their personal problems to the group at all."

"Yes." I say.

"No." Nah says.

Me and Nah stare at each other again, and I gesture with a hand. "By all means, explain. We're apparently not on the same page."

"We were arguing over trying to make personal problems a group issue." Nah says.

"But you said if I was constantly being harassed that I shouldn't bring it up."

"Yeah, don't try and push your problems onto the group."

"So I shouldn't mention my problems at all."

"No, that's not it."

I massage my forehead. "I don't get it. What's the distinction here?"

"It's fine to bring it up, but don't try and make it a group issue. It's _your_ problem, not the group's. If they make it their issue, fine, but it's not your place to choose." Nah asserts.

Oh. Okay. So it's not a matter of literally never mentioning that you have problems, it's a matter of not _forcing_ other people to deal with them for you. "That's… fairly reasonable." I say. I could add on side notes that personal health is still important, and that you should be able to expect a certain amount of support from your companions, but for the sake of not hashing out every little detail of our debate I think I'll keep my mouth shut about it. "I can more-or-less agree with that."

"So we're good?" Morgan asks.

"I guess." Nah grumbles.

"Cool." Morgan grabs me by the arm. "Because I'm taking him back now."

"Take him. I don't want him." Nah says. She walks away without another word.

"Well." Morgan says after a moment. "Are you alright?"

"I'm annoyed." I say honestly. "I'll be fine in a bit."

"So what I'm hearing is that you need a hug."

Thank you, Morgan, for your endless affection. "I certainly won't argue with one."

###

In every town we cross, we ask if anyone has seen Laurent (specifically we ask if they've seen a studious mage with glasses pass though). Most of the time, that's a no. However we know he's heading towards the Ylissian desert, so it should only be a matter of time before we find him because there's only so many places around the desert he could be.

Of course, we _do_ technically have a time limit. We have to be back in time for Chrom's wedding (you know, now that I think of it, one month to set up a royal wedding seems like a very short amount of time). But we know Laurent really isn't going anywhere and isn't in any pressing danger.

I think part of the reason we don't have any leads about Laurent is because most people we talk to are assholes. It's unusual, actually. For some reason this part of the country has a high concentration of utter douchebags. That whole ordeal with the villagers not liking Nowi or Nah? That's pretty common now. Heck, most of us are getting scornful looks, not just the manaketes.

I ask Morgan about it and she can only shrug. She has no idea what's going on. It's Anna who I get my answer from after yet another instance of scorn from random villagers we just helped out. I grumble about the problem, and Anna speaks up.

"That's normal for deep Ylisse." Anna says. "You'd be hard pressed to find any group of people more certain that Ylisse is the best and every other country sucks than deep Ylissians… maybe because they're never personally interacted with any other culture. It's not like Ylisse has an easter neighbour, and immigrants tend to end up in northern Ylisse, so deep Ylisse, which is the south-eastern part of Ylisse past Ylisstol, is about as homogenous as you can get. Some people would include all of eastern Ylisse in that categorization because the Bay of Silver tends to funnel all Feroxi immigrants or travellers to the west, but it's the most pronounced down here."

"Oh." I blink. "How do you know all this?"

"I'm a merchant." Anna says simply. "I travel, I talk, I listen. You learn a lot that way. It's vital I know the culture of the place in which I'm setting up shop, and I've been here before. So anyhow. Everyone in our group is rather obviously a foreigner or not even human, and that's probably why no one wants to deal with us."

"Let me guess." I say. "This part of the country is also very traditionalist, aren't they?"

"Yep."

So this part of the country is stereotyped as xenophobic conservatives? What a lovely picture Anna paints. Unfortunately, on this trip I've seen nothing to indicate that stereotype isn't true.

Though I suppose Donnel is from deep Ylisse (if I remember his paralogue placement correctly) and he's perfectly nice. I expect what Anna says is mostly true, but only mostly. Trends and patterns and cultures exist, and I won't pretend they don't, but that's no reason not to give new people a chance, even if I'm expecting disappointment.

What's the saying? Hope for the best, expect the worst? Something like that. I wonder what other stereotypes exist in this world. Are they similar to the ones from Earth? The xenophobic conservative culture is certainly a familiar stereotype. I'm not interested in taking any stereotypes to heart obviously, I'm just curious about which ones exist.

"Of course, you also get people like Donnel." Anna adds, almost as if reading my earlier thoughts. "Where their separation from the rest of the world just makes them enthusiastic to see it when they get the chance. There's been towns down here where I've been welcomed and badgered non-stop about every little thing the locals find interesting. It's _exhausting_."

"But it's easy to sell stuff to those folks, isn't it?"

"You bet it is!" Anna says cheerfully. "As long as it's a foreign curiosity, they're all over it! I managed to sell a small pouch of Chon'sinese beans for three silver. _Three silver_ for just a few beans! Can you imagine that?"

"What a complete rip off."

"Not so!" Anna says. "He offered three silver before I even gave a price, so of course I took it! I was only going to charge fifty copper, maybe a silver at most, but I wasn't going to pass up a chance to triple my expected gain!"

"If you say so."

"I do!"

###

Finding Laurent doesn't have some big event surrounding it. We don't find him in an abandoned temple, or have to wait for a month while he completes some obligations, or save him from slavers or grimleal. No. Instead we run into him halfway between towns. We turn a corner around a large, sandy rock, and bam: there he is. Simple as that.

We're just a few hours past the true start of the desert. There's been a bit more sand and a bit less foliage for a few days now, but we only got into proper sand-dunes and cactuses this morning.

Nah is the first to speak. "Laurent!"

"Nah." The boy replies, and nods to her. He seems relatively calm, whereas most of our group is rather surprised. "What brings you here?"

"Looking for you!" Nah says. "What are you _doing_ out here Laurent?"

Hey now, he probably got dropped here not that long ago and has had to make his way across the country by foot.

"I am searching for the Goddess Staff, and have been for a while now." Laurent says, completely disproving what I was just thinking. "So far, I have had little success."

"Why were you wasting time on that?" Nah asks in frustration. "Why weren't you heading to Ylisstol or trying to find us?"

"With the Plegian war coming to a close, I figured I had much time before the Valmese war, and so I decided to make myself useful and attempt to locate the Goddess Staff. It would be an invaluable aid against Grima, and there is enough evidence to suggest that it does indeed exist that I considered locating it a valid endeavor." Laurent explains.

"More important than finding the rest of us?" Nah huffs.

"I did not consider it possible to locate you considering I was unaware of your locations and the fact that there was such a large area to cover." Laurent admits. "Pray tell, how did you know where to find me? Is there some methodology or information of which I am unaware?"

"That would be because of me." I say, and extend a hand. "Nathan. Nice to meet you."

Laurent mimics the action and shakes. "Laurent, likewise. Now what is it that you have done that could locate me?"

"I have outside knowledge." I say. "I know roughly where all you future children are."

"So you are aware of our situation? Did Nah inform you of it?"

"No. Again, I have outside information." I then give him the short version of my situation. Laurent takes it rather well all things considered. He's not nearly as outwardly surprised or distrustful as the others were, he seems more curious than anything.

"Fascinating…" Laurent murmurs. "You must tell me more of this at a later time."

"Sure."

Morgan cuts into our conversation. "Chrom's wedding is in a few weeks, and we came here to get you, so you'll come back with us right?"

"It would be rude of me to refuse after you have come all this way, and my investigation has thus far not born fruit, so yes, I shall." Laurent agrees.

"If the game is accurate, then the Goddess Staff is indeed something you can find." I offer. "Though it's very particular, and I'm not sure how well the game information translates to an actual location."

"Interesting…" Laurent murmurs. "Perhaps I shall continue my investigation at a later date then, if it is not as fruitless as it seems. Incidentally, am I the second of us time-travellers you have located besides Nah?"

"Nope. You're the fifth." I say. "We've got Noire, Nah, Kjelle, Morgan here, and then you. Not in that order. Morgan was first."

"Morgan?" Laurent frowns. "That name is not familiar."

"Hi! I'm Morgan!" Morgan says cheerful. "I'm objectively the best person ever!"

"I do not think you know what the word "objectively" means…"

"No I do."

"She's a special case. An amnesiac, and different dimension than the rest of you." I explain. "Well, probably. The game makes it uncertain."

"How curious. So many mysteries to unpack." Laurent muses. "Greetings to you Morgan, I hope for your cooperation in the future."

"I should be saying that to you. _I'm_ in charge!" Morgan says cheerfully. "Because I'm a tactician, and a leader, and a genius."

"Not to mention humble." I add.

"Humble as they come! I'm also super cute, and charismatic, and-"

"Perhaps we can move on?" Lon'qu interrupts, unamused by Morgan's self-complimenting. "I do not wish to stay in the desert longer than I must. It is far too hot here."

He must have hated Plegia then. Also yeah, let's bail. I have no desire to sweat like a pig, and I don't have a nice wide-brimmed hat to shade me like Laurent does.

###

Laurent asks a lot of questions. How did the game work? How did the developers choose what to put in? How did they know about this world? What discrepancies have I noticed so far? How did the 3DS work? What does the subtitle "Awakening" mean? Why does the game start at Southtown with Robin? Why is the game vague with certain information? Why does it have minor variance in outcomes? What outcomes can be trusted?

All of those questions and dozens more are what I try to answer on our way back to Ylisstol. Every day Laurent has a whole new slew of inquiries regarding something about the game or my knowledge of this world. Unfortunately, I don't think my answers are very good. Most of the time I'm giving some variety of "I don't know, but this is my guess" which is… subpar. Laurent seems fine with it, but I still feel like I'm giving insufficient information.

I worry for when Laurent will start to ask about my world in general. He's going to have an infinite amount of questions.

Morgan handles Laurent's questions much more gracefully than I do, or maybe she just enjoys the sound of her own voice. Probably both. Laurent also has a lot fewer questions for Morgan.

Laurent is surprisingly social with the rest of the group beyond the little corner of future children and me. He converses with Nowi about the power of dragons, Olivia about the applications of and skills involved in dance, Lon'qu about swordsmanship, and so on. He's also always inquiring about our health (I think I remember in some of his supports that he made it his business to make sure everyone in the Shepherds was taken care of).

Laurent is also a bit of a tactician himself, and so he provides a much more significant challenge for Morgan when we teach him chess than I ever could. It's sad on my part how quickly Laurent surpasses me. I suppose I just don't have any skill for the game… or Laurent just happens to have a knack for it.

Either way, Morgan has someone else to play with. Maybe I should consider making Morgan her own copy of chess.

Nah is also very interested in Laurent… I think. It's unclear. She talks to him frequently enough, but their conversations swing wildly between Nah teasing him, being annoyed at something, Laurent asking about dragon things or what she's noticed about the world so far, or them having actual normal conversations. Nah's attitude is all over the place, but Laurent is always calm.

Weird. Something tells me they have history.

Now we have all the kids from Ferox and Ylisse. All the kids from the relatively safe places. The rest are in Valentia or the west end of Plegia. Virion will hopefully handle the Valentian kids, so now it's just a matter of getting the ones from Plegia… somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter… it did what it had to. I guess I'll have to be satisfied with that. I feel like there's a lack of Morgan, even though there's probably just as much Morgan here as there usually is.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno. Insert funny joke here. We're still in an awkward part of the story where there's way too much plot and character stuff happening in a short amount of time. Also, the second trigger is going to happen, and while I've somewhat led up to it, it still ended up being sudden and awkwardly integrated.
> 
> Also, it seems a number of you forgot that Emmeryn was already revealed to still be alive back in chapter 10. Check the talk with Anna.

So, a royal wedding. That sounds cool you might think. Fancy decorations everywhere, a massive ceremony, probably a parade, lots of food and drink, good stuff.

Well you're _wrong_ , it's tedious, boring, and it sucks. I don't know about you, but doing nothing but standing around for hours on end is not what I'd call enjoyable. Because this is a super important royal wedding, it starts the moment the tip of the sun can be seen on the horizon. We can't really skip any of the boring parts either. I mean, we _could_ , but it would be rude.

Those straight black clothes I bought are coming in handy, because they're the closest thing I have to formal clothes. Folding the sleeves of my shirt a bit gives them the impression of being cuffs, and a belt helps me look less monotone.

Stahl, being the nice person he is, apparently realized I didn't have anything else and lent me a spare vest when I came down for breakfast. He actually offered a few more noble-looking things like bulky, puffy shirts and all that (apparently he had to get these when he became a knight as was expected to attend some high-class events) but I took a dark-green vest. Maybe it's not very accurate to the times, but fuck it, I'll take my more Earthly fashion sense thank you very much.

Most of the Ylissian Shepherds have to rush out early after breakfast. They're actually a part of the ceremonies. Robin is also a part of this group, so after recounting the schedule to Morgan and I (we only returned yesterday) he has to leave.

Morgan is lucky by the way, she can wear her coat.

The morning is dedicated to religious stuff for the most part, probably to get it out of the way for the more fun events later (assuming there are any, now that I think about it). There's a two-hour long ceremony (one of many around the city) being held by some bishop about how Naga has blessed the royal family and indeed the entire country and we should _all_ feel blessed about this and bla bla bla, standard religious bullshit. I doubt Naga had anything to do with this. She doesn't have that much power to spare.

Honestly the religious stuff is kind of interesting in a roundabout way. There's a bunch of curious lines the bishop says that grab my attention. He talks about the "purifying power of marriage" which is not something I've ever heard of before. I'm aware of the whole "love redeems" idea, where being loved and loving in return makes you a better person, but the "purifying power" of marriage is an interesting way to phrase it. The bishop also ascribes terms to both Chrom and Maribelle that make me raise an eyebrow. He constantly calls Maribelle "pure" or even "chaste" which is really weird considering she's a Shepherd, and therefore has certainly seen combat and is by no means innocent nor pure, and she's getting married, and that usually involves a certain amount of… uh… _unchaste_ actions in the near future. Chrom is more generic. Strong, brave, noble, pious, all that stuff. Pious is a weird one, that's not usually what I hear ascribed to Chrom. You can also really hear traditional gender roles being pushed in this speech, and he repeats it over and over and over, and praises Naga time and again, and keeps talking about how Naga has ordained this rather than, you know, it being any choice of Chrom or Maribelle's.

Whatever man. Religion is going to do it's thing. There's a reason I usually don't pay attention to it, though maybe I'll look into it more in this world just to see what's up and how it shapes the world around me.

Me and Morgan spend half the speech quietly making fun of the various things the bishop says, and the other half is me explaining to her what little I remember about Earth's religions.

Don't get me wrong, it's still boring. Morgan makes it slightly less boring, but it's still boring overall.

The next part of this whole ordeal happens at noon. There is indeed a parade, and I think it must have been scheduled for noon so the sun could be at its zenith for maximum aesthetic effect.

By virtue of us being… Shepherds? Are we technically Shepherds now? Whatever, we get a viewing spot with the rest of the Shepherds who aren't part of the parade themselves. We get to see the parade right as it starts, which means we also get to leave sooner than everyone else after the parade has past us.

We're still there for a long time. There was no expense spared in making this a huge ordeal. What's interesting is that this is very a military parade, despite Emmeryn being the Exalt. I suppose it is more fitting for Chrom, and I honestly have no idea what else would be done for a royal wedding parade. A military procession just works.

I spot a familiar face when the pegasus corps fly by. All the pegasus knights have gold armor, which if I remember correctly designates all of them as squad leaders of some sort. Among them is Vanna, the leader of the squad we ran into along our way to Ylisstol. She doesn't see us of course, we're two faces among thousands, but it's still cool to notice her.

Notably, Cordelia and Sumia are not in the group of pegasus knights. Phila is leading them, but those two aren't there.

That's because they're close to Chrom and Maribelle. The Shepherds get a prime spot in the parade as Chrom and Maribelle's personal guards. Cordelia and Sumia fly overtop, Stahl and Sully flank the carriage, Frederick is naturally in the back so he can see everything, and Robin is up front. He changed since we last saw him. He's wearing his grandmaster outfit, complete with shining silver armor.

"Father has got to be _boiling_ in that." Morgan whispers. "Armor, cloak, and midday sun?"

"Poor guy." I agree. I'm already feeling hot, and we have a nice shaded spot right outside the castle gate. "Is there a spell to stop heat stroke?"

"I hope so." Morgan murmurs.

"There is." Laurent reassures. "I would expect an enchantment to have been cast over him and most of the procession before this began, fear not."

"Cool. You gotta teach me that some time!"

"If you so wish, I may be able to spare the time."

"Yay!"

While mildly impressive, the parade is also really noisy with all the cheering and I'm glad when the tail end is out of sight and we can leave.

As mostly-irrelevant guests, me and Morgan get breaks as we wait for the next thing to happen. By that I mean we get to eat lunch (at, like, two-thirty in the afternoon) and Morgan regales me with all the overly-flamboyant outfits she noticed on other people in the crowd.

"He had, like, five layers on." Morgan says and pulls on her coat as a sort of visual aid. "And he was in direct sunlight, and he was sweating like a pig! You could actually see the stains growing as the parade went on!"

"Ew. Wait, I thought you said he had five layers. You could see the stains on the outermost layer?"

"Yep!"

"That's disgusting."

"I know!" Morgan says cheerfully. "There was also this woman with this _huge_ dress. I mean, no one could stand within half a meter of her. It was all blue and green and intricate. Actually a nice dress and all, but much better suited for a party or a ball than standing out in the sun. At least she had an equally huge huge hat to block the sun. Oh, and the hat had some _massive_ feathers! They totally had to be fake!"

"Maybe they're roc feathers."

"What's a roc?"

"Maybe rocs don't exist then…"

"Tell me what they are!"

"Giant eagles… I think they're eagles. Some bird of prey that's the size of a manakete." I say. "Big bird. I'm thinking too much of D&D."

"I dunno, maybe those exist." Morgan says. "But it doesn't ring a bell."

"Probably doesn't exist then." I mutter.

"Oh, oh, I also saw this lady with a _huge_ ass!"

Of course she'd notice that. "I believe that's called a bustle Morgan."

"Say what?"

"A bustle. It's to support a dress so it doesn't drag along the ground. Usually you wear it on your lower back." I explain.

"Why do you know this?"

"Like I've said before, I know a lot of very random facts of questionable relevance." I say. "And by that I mean I've looked into older dresses before, and bustles were mentioned, so I investigated that too."

"Ah."

"Oh, and…" I poke her nose, like I usually do. "Lewd girl."

"Yeah yeah, what else is new?"

"Not you, because you're predictable." I tease.

Morgan gives an exaggerated gasp. "Me? Predictable? I'm a tactician! Being predictable means I can be analyzed and defeated! Being called predictable is an _insult_!"

"Is that how it works now?"

"It is!"

"Well then you better start changing it up." I say.

"Oh I will, and you'll regret it!"

"I look forward to it."

The actual wedding ceremony is something we can barely see from our spot way up in the rafters. It's big and fancy and there's a bunch of important-looking people there that get to sit right up front. It's fucking _long_. Three hours long in fact.

It's also hard to feel the gravity of the ceremony. I'm sure this is actually a huge deal with Chrom being royalty and Maribelle being nobility, shaking the political landscape and all that, but to me it's just two Shepherds getting married. It's cool I guess, but not earth-shattering.

I'm thankful me and Morgan are tucked away in a corner of the courtyard so we can entertain ourselves without bothering other people. I spend some of my time looking around for Lucina. Even if she's keeping herself hidden, this seems like something she'd want to see. It's her parents' wedding after all.

Of course I can't spot one person in this massive crowd, so I don't see Lucina anywhere. I imagine she's here though.

Just like this morning where we had to listen to boring religious stuff, there's a lot of that here too. More surprising to me is how _Emmeryn_ is the one saying all of this. There's not some bishop or priest doing it. Judging by the murmuring of everyone when Emmeryn steps forward, I have the impression this isn't exactly standard.

When I bring this up to Morgan, it's Laurent who answers again. "Indeed you are correct. Under normal circumstances one would expect high-ranking clergy to oversee such an important ceremony. The Exalt does qualify, but only on technicality of the royal family being seen as favored by Naga and through that holding religious ranks. According to what I know from history books, it is not standard for the royal family to use those ranks in any major capacity, as it would be seen as attempting to expand the power of the crown to areas the church controls. It is not so much of a gaff as Lady Emmeryn was clergy herself in her youth, but Emmeryn is indeed still breaking a social norm and stepping on the toes of the church by doing this."

Interesting. I have to wonder if there's something political behind the decision, or if it was simply a request by Chrom and/or Maribelle. I should have guessed that the highest levels of Ylissian society would be rife with political maneuvering.

You know the drill from then on. Walk down the aisle, stand at alter, vows, cheering, I think Frederick and Lissa are crying. Exactly what you'd expect from a wedding. I do my part and clap when needed. I didn't notice before, but Vaike and Robin are also down there standing behind Chrom along with Frederick, and Maribelle has Lissa (obviously), Sumia, and some older woman I don't recognize.

So that's all well and good, but none of it was particularly interesting to me. Talking to Morgan was more interesting than what was actually happening around us for the most part. That's aside from, of course, this last thing.

The afterparty.

"I wasn't even aware we were going to be able to go." I say when Robin locates us and tells us we're going.

"It's at my discretion." Robin says. "I'm going of course, and I can bring guests. Inviting Morgan was a given, and seeing as all the other Shepherds and future children are going, it would be rude to leave you out."

So basically I'm allowed to go by being associated with Morgan, because let's be real, if I wasn't close with Morgan I wouldn't be coming even if Robin claims it's just because I'm part of the future kid group. I'm only allowed to come because Morgan probably wouldn't if I wasn't (because she's way more attached to me than I deserve).

Or maybe that's my cynicism speaking and it doesn't matter how close I am to Morgan. I _do_ tend to assume everything that's going well for me is because of Morgan. How could I not? I got this far almost purely by relying on her help.

And that's how me and Morgan got thrust into a party with a bunch of very important people with no guidance aside from Robin saying "please don't stab anyone or make them hate you, anything you two do affects my reputation".

Honestly, knowing Morgan and what she's done before, that's probably a necessary warning.

I'd be perfectly content to tuck away in a corner until dinner happens, but Morgan is curious. "I wonder what people talk about at these sorts of parties. We should listen in! This is a great chance to learn and make connections!"

"Why do we need connections?" I ask.

"Why not? Also, we can exploit them."

"You're going to get a _load_ of connections with that attitude." I snort.

"Yep." Morgan says. "I will, because I've got a winning personality and a face so cute they won't mind being exploited!"

"Right…"

"I'm _joking_." Morgan says, and grabs my arm to pull me around. "Mostly."

"Mmm-hmm."

"I am!"

"If you say so."

"Also, I want to help Father. If I can make a friend, that's a potential ally for Father!"

How very politically-minded of you Morgan. "Nevermind, you're going to fit in here perfectly."

Morgan squints her eyes at me. "Is that an insult?"

"Sort of. I don't think highly of politicians and the like."

"Suppose I can't blame you for that, considering what I know of your world's politics." Morgan says.

She isn't dissuaded about talking to people though. So talk we- well, she mostly- do.

It isn't very difficult finding someone to talk to, because as much as this is technically a party for Chrom and Maribelle people are also here to socialize.

While there are a lot of stuffy old people (who probably have titles) here, Morgan manages to locate people closer to our age. She pulls me over to a lone young man with a wine glass and a cravat. He looks awfully pretentious.

"Hiya!" Morgan chirps without preamble. "I'm Morgan! Soon to be the best tactician ever! Who are you guys?"

His eyebrows instantly rise, and I resist the urge to face-palm. This is a fancy high-class gathering where manners and formality is very important, and Morgan and manners generally don't get along because she's too busy joking around or bragging about how cute she is to learn or care about manners.

The young man decides Morgan is worth talking to, because he politely bows and extends a hand in greeting. "Allard Dracovine, a pleasure." He pronounces it "drah-co-vayin" not "dray-co-vine".

Morgan grabs his one hand with both of hers and shakes vigorously, almost causing him to spill

the drink he's holding in the other. "Hi! What do you do? What's going on? I'm sorta new here. Oh, this is Nathan, he's mine."

Allard is more than happy to talk about himself. He's the middle son of a prominent family of knights and wine-makers. He's set to take over the vineyards as his older brother is aiming to become a general. He speaks proudly of both family and his position in it, as well as their occupations.

"And you?" Allard asks. "What about you?"

"I'm Robin's daughter!" She chirps. I guess we're not hiding that information now, huh? "He's the Shepherds' tactician!"

"Interesting." Allard hums. "By chance, do you or your father have an interest in fine wine?"

"I've never tried wine at all." Morgan says. "I can't speak for my father though, I haven't spoken with him much."

"Oh really?" He says. "And why is that? Was he always too busy?"

That's… hmm… I'm sensing something a bit off about that question. I'm going to reserve judgement for now though. I'm not actually sure what's making me wary.

"Nah, I'm an amnesiac." Morgan says. "So I haven't spoken with him much because I don't remember much!"

"Oh." Allard blinks. "That's quite a problem."

"It's not so bad." Morgan shrugs. "Everything is new and interesting now! I bet you can't say the same thing!"

"That is true." He agrees. "Still, I'm surprised your father allowed such a thing to happen to you."

"It's not really his fault, he wasn't around."

"That is still negligence."

Okay, now I understand what I was sensing. I think Allard here is digging for dirt on Robin. He's trying to find something he can use as leverage. Words straight from Robin's daughter's mouth that he's a bad father would certainly count as leverage, so he's trying to facilitate that with leading questions and conclusions.

"Morgan." I murmur, putting a hand on her shoulder and leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Be cautious. He's looking for leverage on Robin."

Morgan nods, keeping her expression cheerful and happy. She offers no sign that her opinion of Allard has at all changed. Maybe she already knew this? Or is she just a good actor? "Right right, I'll go in a second Nathan."

Oh, nice cover Morgan. Now they're going to think I was just giving her a reminder. Very smooth. I nod back and return to my resting position. Morgan can handle this just fine.

"Father is great." Morgan says. "He's just busy, and I'll admit I'm a bit of a handful! Besides, how could he expect someone to curse me out of the blue?"

"I suppose…" Allard says slowly, clearly thinking. Morgan keep going before he can say more.

"Besides, isn't that normal?" Morgan chirps. "I'll bet a bunch of people's parents are busy! The world is a busy place! There's houses to run, money to make, training to keep up, staff to keep on track, reports to file, a whole bunch of stuff!"

"Even so, _my_ father always has time for me." He says proudly. "Not a day goes by without him checking on my education and ensuring I am prepared to take over the vineyards."

"Is that so?" Morgan says with a smile. I think Allard just wandered into a trap. "Every single day?"

"Indeed."

"How much time are we talking every day?"

"A few hours or so, not including dinner and downtime. More than sufficient!"

"Sufficient indeed. Is he in charge of the vineyards at the moment?"

"Yes."

"And an active knight?"

"Not so, he is getting on in the years. He trains new knights. Plenty respectable."

"Of course, of course." Morgan says. "I imagine training the knights takes quite some time and effort, doesn't it? There's so much to do."

Allard puffs out his chest a bit and straightens his cravat. "Indeed you are correct. My father is nothing if not hard-working!"

"I don't doubt it, he sounds quite impressive." Morgan simpers. "Though I must say, between looking after you, his trainees, and the vineyards, he must have precious little extra time."

"Sadly true." Allard agrees. "It is the price one must pay for a position of power."

"Did you say you had a brother, Sir Dracovine?" Morgan asks. Breaking out the flattery and titles now are we? She's really going hard on this.

"Indeed I do. A younger sister as well."

"Did you say your father had precious little free time?"

"Indeed." He says, a bit less sure this time. I think he's starting to understand something is a bit off.

"Why, then it seems like your poor siblings are being a bit neglected, aren't they?" Morgan asks with a wide, predatory grin. So this was her trap. Allard tried to get dirt on Robin, so she's returning the favor. "It almost seems like your father is choosing favourites, how awful."

"I- well- that's not true at all!" He sputters. "My brother is busy on his own by this point, and he spares my sister some time as well!"

"Clearly not as much as you, seeing as he had hours to spare for helping you but precious little extra time by your own admission." Morgan says. "Your poor, neglected sister."

"That's not it at all! I am going to be taking over a position of power, it is only natural more time is spent on myself!" Allard says with an edge of panic in his voice. He definitely understands the trap by this point and doesn't want his father to figure out he accidentally gave someone possible blackmail on him.

"Ahh, I see." Morgan hums. "It's almost as if your father has to carefully ration his time and prioritize things of utmost importance, and that not sparing much time for his daughter doesn't indicate a lack of love or care."

Allard jumps to grab the out Morgan is dangling in front of him. "That's exactly right!" He says with relief.

"Well then, I suppose my own father can't be accused of negligence either, as he is quite a busy man as well." Morgan says with a triumphant grin. "Do take care about throwing around accusations in the future, _Sir_ Dracovine. Especially if your own family fits the same description."

She loops her arm through mine before he can respond, and says.

"Now, I believe there was somewhere I had to be. Good day to you, _sir_." I lead her away, trying to hold back my own smile at the rather dumfounded look on some of the boy's faces.

As soon as we're sufficiently far away, I let a smile split my face. "Now Morgan, I do believe your father said not to make enemies. You can't go around traumatizing noble young men like that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Morgan says innocently, though her own huge grin says otherwise. "I was merely having a conversation with a nice young man and following his lead. I only did as he did."

"I don't know what your father was thinking, putting me in charge of such an _impressionable_ young girl." I sigh dramatically. "Though really, bringing you here is like dropping a wolf in a sheep pen."

"What did you expect with someone of my _incredible_ intelligence and wit?" Morgan asks. "I'm going to have lots of fun here, I can tell."

"Nobles beware." I smile. "Morgan is here."

"You bet!" Morgan says. "Oh, and by the way, nice catch on the attempted blackmail."

"I wasn't sure if you'd caught it or not." I say.

"I had a feeling that's what was going on, but I wasn't sure."

"I wasn't sure either." I admit. "It just reeked of court politics, so I made an assumption."

"Well either way, he was insulting my father." Morgan hums. "So I have no regrets."

"Do you _ever_ have regrets?"

Morgan shrugs. "Not really."

No surprise there. "Well either way, don't scare off too many young men." I tease. "You're a single young woman, I'm sure your father is looking for some nice, and more importantly rich and powerful, young man to marry you off to."

"Oh of _course_!" Morgan grins. "As a single woman, I need to be searching for a husband, how could I forget? That's my purpose in life."

"Such a shame you couldn't be married off to the prince." I sigh dramatically. "But there should be other candidates of decent value to grab. We need to make sure your marriage is an asset to your family of course."

"Obviously." Morgan says. "I should have worn a proper dress! How can I be expected to grab myself a man without a v-neck at least down to my navel?"

Feeling a bit bold, I poke Morgan in the chest. "Not sure that's going to help you. It's not like you have much to show off."

"How _dare_ you." Morgan huffs, and crosses her arms. "Are you calling me flat?"

"Yes."

"Well you're right, but screw you anyways!" She pouts. "Are you saying I have no charm?"

"I never said that. Fishing for compliments are we?" I tease again.

"You just called me flat! How am I ever going to recover from that blow to my pride without compliments?" Morgan says. "My self-worth lies in ruins! Don't you know one stated fact from a man is a death sentence to any girl!"

"Of course, I forgot just how emotionally fragile the fairer sex is." I chuckle, and pat her on the head. "There there, you have other charms."

"Patronizing me now, are you?" Morgan continues to pout. A smile is tugging at the corner of her mouth though. This is all in good fun. "And I didn't hear any specifics! Could it be that you don't _actually_ think I have any other charms and are just being nice?"

"You're not subtle you know." I say, poking her in the nose. "I see what you're doing. You're still fishing for compliments."

"Maaaybe." Morgan says. She leans against my arm with a shit-eating grin. "And you'll indulge me, won't you?"

"Only because I'm a pushover." I say. "But yes."

"A pushover to _me_ , your girlfriend." Morgan reminds me. "It means you dote on me, and that's not a bad thing to a certain extent. Besides, I'm the same with you whether you know it or not."

I wouldn't have thought so. Morgan strikes me as too stubborn to be nudged into doing something… though I suppose I haven't ever intentionally tried to get her to do something either. "Alright, alright. But what do you expect me to say?"

"A compliment! Something about my appearance, because that's in line with the improv we're doing." Morgan chirps. She wiggles her eyebrows a moment. "Don't be shy. You just called me flat. If I'm not going to get offended by that, you have nothing to worry about. If you want to say you like my butt, now's the time."

Morgan knows me too well, because I absolutely would have gone with something safe if she hadn't said that. I can't believe I'm actually going along with this. I'm also very glad no one is really paying attention to us as we walk to some corner of the room. "Hmm… well I've already said before that you have chicken legs, and now I've said that you're flat…"

Morgan pouts again. "I want _compliments_ Nathan."

"Just making sure I don't contradict myself." I say with a smile. "And as much as you use it as a joke, your cute face _is_ one of those things to compliment. You should see just how smug you can look sometimes."

"Is looking smug a good thing?"

"Yes." I nod. "It feels very… you. You at your best. Smug, confident Morgan."

"That's a very unique compliment." Morgan says. Then, with an impish smile. "So what I'm hearing is that you like it when I take charge, hmm?"

"Uh…"

"Right." She grins. "Filing that away for later."

I don't know what that means, but I'm not that worried. It's Morgan. "So, was that what you were looking for?"

"I should have known you'd be tame." She huffs fondly. "I all but outright told you that you could be lewd!"

"That was more than I was going to do before." I mumble. "I was just going to compliment your hair or something before."

"Still so shy." Morgan smiles. "I'm not complaining though."

"I- I guess I could say-"

"Hey, don't let me push you to anything you're not comfortable with Nathan. I'm just teasing."

"Right." I say, but I'm going to do this anyways. I'm never going to become comfortable with it if I don't push my own boundaries a bit. "But- uh- I'm always trying not to stare at your hips, especially whenever you take off your cloak."

A grin splits her face. "Now _that's_ what I was looking for, and Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

"You do remember this was supposed to be improv, right?" She says, holding back a laugh. "You could have made something up."

I cringe a bit. "Oh."

"Oh come on, that's not a bad thing." Morgan says cheerfully. "I was literally asking you to give me a slightly lewd compliment. I'm not going to complain about honesty!"

Ah, right, I'm worrying over nothing. "Of course, I should have guessed as much. Lewd compliments for a lewd girl."

"Exactly!" She says. "But really, I'll take compliments of any kind."

"I'm well aware."

"I'd return the favor, but…" Morgan pauses, gesturing to me. "I think I'll wait until you get your actual body. It would be weird to compliment you about a body that isn't ever really yours."

"You're assuming you'll find something to compliment."

"Oh I will." Morgan says confidently. "Everyone has something to like."

You know what? That's a good mindset. I need to emulate that. "Well, then I'll look forward to that then."

With our bit over with, Morgan finds a few other poor noblemen to toy with, and after she's had her fun we retreat to a table near the other Shepherds and future kids until dinner.

###

Finally, after the wedding, I manage to push Morgan into spending a day with her father. Robin finally has the free time, what with many people taking a free day after the wedding. Morgan tries to argue against it, but I refuse to listen.

I spend the day practicing my writing, going through sword drills, and more importantly: starting the creation of two more travel chess sets. One is for Morgan, and the other I want to send to Virion. I can't finish them in one day, but that's fine.

Something else I get done is commissioning some iron bolts for my crossbow. My wooden bolts have served me well but I want something with a bit more punch, just in case. It turns out that the design of my crossbow makes this a bit of a hassle. As of currently, the entirety of the bolt rests in the groove in which the bolt is launched (because I haven't managed to get enough power in the crossbow to fire larger bolts, and the groove helps to keep the bolt straight) whereas I'm fairly sure normal crossbows use bolts with bolt heads that would rest just beyond the front of the weapon. This is apparently a bit of a challenge for making bolts, as I can't use wood splitting to hold the bolt head in place. Instead the bolt head needs to squeeze around the top of the shaft.

Basically, because my crossbow design still needs improvement, making effective bolts is a bit of a pain. I have no idea how to improve it at this point though. I think modern crossbows use multiple strings to grant more force or something…? I'll have to do some testing, or ask Miriel, or both.

I'm explaining all of this crossbow stuff to Noire as I work on the chess sets in the yard of the Shepherds' barracks. Noire doesn't have much to do today as Tharja is one of the few people that is actually busy with something (I have no idea what), so she's hanging around with me. She's working on something of her own as well of course. She's practicing a spell, dark magic by the looks of it. I wonder if that's flux.

"I-It might be a matter of the material too." Noire murmurs. "A longbow only uses one string, but it has plenty of power and range."

"That's true, but it's also a lot bigger." I muse. "I can't just turn a longbow sideways and add a flight groove. That's too unwieldy."

"S-Still…"

"Yeah, it might be the materials." I agree. "Do you know what your bow is made of?"

"I think my current one is hickory." Noire says. "I've made so many over the years I tend to forget. They tended to get broken during particularly fierce Risen attacks and I'd have to use my daggers instead."

"You were on the front lines with your bow?" I ask. I presume that's how it kept getting broken. "How'd that keep happening?"

"There's no front line in ambushes." Noire murmurs. "The Risen would be everywhere, and I usually had to protect Brady so I couldn't just run away to create distance for me to shoot."

"Were you Brady's designated protector or something?"

"Not exactly." Noire says. Her hands fidget with the hem of her shirt. "I-I just- we- we're friends."

"Aren't all the future kids friends?" I ask. I genuinely assumed most of the future kids were friends, but I guess it might have been necessary to work with each other. They might have been companions, but not friends.

"W-Well yes." Noire says. Her eyes dart from side to side. "We- erm- we're close."

"Ah, alright." I say. "Good friends."

"Y-Yeah."

"You were friends when you were kids too, right?"

"Yes." She nods. "You know that from the game?"

"Yep." I say. "Honestly, you and Brady were always some of my favourites, so I remember quite a bit about you two."

"R-Really?"

"Yeah. It was mostly because I found you both quite adorable." I admit sheepishly. "Brady was a nice, sensitive guy despite pretending to be tough, and you were cute and shy. Just simple stuff."

"R-R-Right." Noir stammers. She's slightly red in the face now. Oops?

"Sorry?"

"It's fine." She says she says in a high-pitch voice.

"You _are_ still cute."

Noire whines and hides her face in her hands, and I smile in slight embarrassment myself.

"Sorry again."

"You're not!" She says accusingly, though it's muffled by her still hiding her face.

"Okay, yeah, not really." I admit. "But I wanted to give a compliment."

I think that's supposed to be a glare on her face, but there's no anger to it. After a minute or two of me silently working on the chessboards she pulls her hands away from her face, though she's quite pink.

"Brady's a prince, right?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Does he act… I dunno, prince-like? In the games it doesn't matter if someone is royalty or not, they keep the same personality. Just practical for game development."

"Not really." Noire murmurs. "A-At least, not around me. He was always very casual."

Sounds like Brady from the game then. Good to know.

"Lucina always acted more like nobility." Noire recounts. "B-Brady would always tell me how the queen would complain that he didn't hold his head up properly, or that he didn't seem to care about law lessons. He always had some new complaint from his mother to tell me about."

Yeah, that's about what I would expect from someone living under Maribelle. Poor guy. "In the supports it mentioned that both of you two were always getting sick together."

"Oh Naga…" Noire sighs. I get the feeling she's thinking " _why is_ _that_ _part of his game?_ ". "Yes, that did happen. Sometimes I swear we spent more of our childhood time together in infirmary beds than actually doing things. Thankfully that stopped, but it was annoying for the longest time."

"On the bright side, you probably have quite the immune system now." I offer.

"Immune system?"

Ah, uh, okay. Maybe that's not common knowledge here. "The simple explanation is that, when exposed to a virus, your body begins the process of learning to defeat that virus. This "knowledge" so-to-speak doesn't go away when the virus is defeated, which is why it's very rare to suffer through the same virus twice. It's not that you can't get a virus multiple times, just that the second time is going to affect you drastically less, in some cases to the point that you might not even notice you have it."

"Oh." Noire blinks. "That's amazing."

"Isn't it?" I grin. "On Earth we have these things called vaccines that are designed to give your body a small, modified part of the disease to trigger your immune response and have your body learn to fight the disease without you ever needing to suffer through the actual thing."

"Wow…"

"Technology is crazy sometimes." I chuckle. "So, anyhow, you've probably got some nice resistances if you went through that many illnesses as a kid." Assuming she doesn't have some sort of immune deficiency of course, but let's not worry her unnecessarily. She's probably fine.

"I haven't gotten sick in a while…" Noire says slowly. "Maybe that's why."

"Possibly!" I agree. "Though, interestingly, there are at least one-hundered and fifty versions of the common cold, so it's hard to be immune to all of them. Er, well, on Earth there are that many."

"That's so many…"

"And that's not even all of them. There are one-hundred and fifty variants of the rhinovirus, which is the most common group of things that cause the symptoms we call "the cold", but there are plenty of other virus groups that also do that. So in reality there's probably well over two hundred viruses that we call "the cold"."

Noire shakes her head. "I would never have known."

"Weird huh?" I say.

Me and Noire spend a pleasant day working on our own little projects, and occasionally having these little talks. It's a nice change of pace from Morgan's constant energy and chatter.

###

It's only halfway through the day after the one I spent with Noire that I think to ask: "Why was there a sermon before the wedding?"

Me and Morgan are conducting my sword training when I ask this. We're in the Shepherds' training grounds on a somewhat cloudy day. We're training just before lunch, when few other people are using the area.

I don't know a lot about weddings, especially royal weddings, but I don't remember ever hearing of a lengthy sermon before a wedding, meaning one that isn't just a part of the normal ceremony. That could just be my unfamiliarity with the whole thing though.

"I dunno." Morgan shrugs. "But we can make a few guesses based on what we've heard before. Laurent said that Emmeryn overseeing the wedding ceremony was a bit of a slap in the face of the church, right? So we can assume there's a bit of a delicate power balance between the crown and the church."

"Right."

"Well, perhaps that lengthy sermon beforehand is the church's way of keeping a handle on what they see as _their_ area of power. Weddings I mean." Morgan says. She taps my foot with her practice blade, correcting my stance. "Like, naturally the royal family would dominate the event, right? So the sermon beforehand serves to remind everyone that the wedding is a _religious_ event which Naga, and more importantly the church, is responsible for."

"That makes a certain amount of sense." I agree. "It's a measure of control over the royal family as well. If the royal family tries to have a wedding, it will be weird if they don't have that sermon if it's tradition to have it, right? So in a way they _need_ the church's cooperation to legitimize their weddings. It's not just a matter of getting one priest to do the ceremony, you need multiple to give the sermons all over the city."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Morgan agrees. "Devious, isn't it? Control via ceremony."

"Indeed."

"Don't drop your stance Nathan."

"Yes _mother._ "

A crooked smile crosses Morgan's face. "So you're into that type of play, hmm?"

Am I going to play along with this? How lewd is this going to get? You know what, sure. I'm going to play along. "You caught me. Oedipus complex all the way."

"Hah!" Morgan barks, her grin grows wider. "I can't help but feel this is an extension of you liking it when I'm in charge, hmm?"

She's going to milk that for all it's worth, isn't she? God I'm lucky to have Morgan. Ridiculously smart, extremely tolerant, and apparently flirty to the utmost degree. Also she's cute, but that's just a bonus. "Guilty as accused. _Please_ , take charge."

"Hmm…" Morgan hums. "Can I be honest?"

"Sure."

"I actually have no idea where to go with this joke."

Well that's rare. "Honestly? I had no idea where this was really going either. The premise was a bit wack."

"I mean, I could think of something in terms of actions." Morgan muses. "Disarm you, then either trip you and step on your chest or maybe go for the flirty instructor angle. Tip your chin up with my sword and all that. It's just a matter of what I'd _say_ and I have no idea what to do with that."

"There's no need to workshop the idea. The only reason I went along with it was to see what you'd do." I admit. "It probably would have been really weird, even by our standards."

"Yeah." Morgan agrees. "So instead… something, something, I flirt, you stammer and blush, let's not and say we did."

She knows the formula I see. "Alright."

"So fix your footwork already!"

"Okay, okay, geeze.."

###

After our… argument? Debate? After our whatever it was, me and Nah haven't spoken much, and I want to make sure she's not angry. I was mildly miffed after that, but I'm fine now. In hindsight I can absolutely understand where Nah was coming from. She comes from a ruined future after all, so mental health is really a secondary concern to _surviving_. It's redundant to ask if people should let their personal and internal lives fall to shamble for the group because that was probably the _only_ option.

So basically, Nah wasn't being irrational. Far from it, she was stating the obvious, albeit the obvious for a different situation. I suppose with Grima still on the horizon, it makes sense that she'd have that mindset… and she might not exactly be wrong in thinking that way either. I think her reaction was overkill last time, considering we're in downtime there's no need for such drastic sacrifices to personal health in my opinion, but her mindset is understandable.

Finding Nah actually takes a bit of effort. Nowi and Nah don't exactly stick around the barracks all that much, so I have to grab her either in the morning before they leave or in the evening when they come back. I choose the morning for the simple fact that there are less people around.

It's not hard to catch Nah before her mother in the morning. Nowi sleeps in the most out of anyone, so there's a solid hour and a half where Nah is up but Nowi isn't.

And when we talk… it's really short.

"We're fine." Nah says curtly when I bring up our debate/argument thing. "I was tired of Mother being… Mother… and said whatever I had to to defend myself."

"I mean, you weren't totally wrong." I offer. "Wrong for the current situation maybe, but not wrong overall."

"Yeah yeah." Nah says. "But we're not in the future anymore, so I was wrong."

"At the moment. You might very well be right when the Valmese war starts. We won't be able to afford to let small, petty things disturb the group."

"Maybe." Nah says. "But… ugh, I was wrong at the time, alright? Stop rubbing it in."

That's not at all what I was trying to do. I was trying to show that I understood her mindset. Maybe I'm being rude without realizing it? "Uh, right."

"Now go, shoo." Nah says, pushing me out of the room. She's glancing at the kitchen for some reason. "Go… make out with Morgan or whatever the heck you two do when alone."

"That is _not_ what we do."

"Whatever, leave!"

"Okay, okay…"

As I walk away, I can hear someone come out of the kitchen and call to Nah. Is that Laurent? That sounds like Laurent. I wonder what's going on. If I remember our argument, Nah was oddly defensive of Laurent there too. There's some connection between those two, or at least from Nah to Laurent.

Instead of going to Morgan, I instead go back to sleep. Having a safe place to stay has seen the return of my stay up late, wake up late habits.

Not that it matters, because Morgan wakes me up again not half an hour later, insisting that Miriel wants to speak with me. So I haul myself out of bed once more and move to the mess hall.

"Nathan." Miriel says, and jumps right into whatever she has to say without waiting for a response. "I have located a spell that can change your form permanently."

"Oh!" I blink. It only took her a month? I was expecting that to take a lot longer. "Well that's great."

"There is an issue, however." Miriel says. "While I may have located a way to obtain the spell, I do not _have_ it, and obtaining it will be expensive. Not only that, but supposedly the execution of the spell itself will be both time-consuming and expensive in it's own right."

Ah, well that's inconvenient. I wonder if whoever is selling her the spell is jacking up the price. "How much money are we talking to buy the spell?"

"Fifty thousand gold."

Uh, okay. That's a fuck-ton of money. Morgan has a lot of money relatively speaking, but she didn't start with more than two hundred, let alone _fifty thousand_ gold.

"You could buy out multiple baronies with that sort of money!" Morgan says in disbelief. "Why is it so expensive?"

"I do believe it is because the spell allows one to cheat death." Miriel murmurs. "The ability to alter one's body so completely can allow the elderly to become young again, and infinitely extend their lifespan. In addition, the spell is known by precious few people, and so a high buying price allows the spell to stay exclusive."

"They can keep a monopoly on the market." I say. "And ask whatever price they want."

"Precisely." Miriel nods. "Having the spell cast upon oneself is so expensive that even many nobles cannot afford it. Twenty five thousand gold for one cast of the spell. Even for the most wealthy individuals, that is no minor expense. It is truly a spell reserved for the richest individuals on the planet."

Yikes. There's no way we can ever afford that, and there's no way I would ask anyone to use that much money on me. I want my body back, but not for that high of a price. "Well there's no way we're going to gather that much extra money, to buy the spell or just a single cast."

"Indeed." Miriel says. "However, I took the liberty of organizing something else."

"Oh?"

"For the cost of one thousand gold, the seller was willing to allow me to view the spell being cast. They would not explain anything to me, but would allow me to see the process of setting up and casting the spell." Miriel actually smirks and pushes up her glasses. "Little are they aware, I have a photographic memory and am an expert note-taker. I should be able to gather enough information about the spell to finish it myself after one such viewing, though it may take some time to work out variables and fill in parts of the spell matrix."

One thousand gold isn't chump change by any means, but it's a far more reasonable cost. Besides, there are other applications than simply returning me to my own body. That spell could be used to re-create severed limbs, cure illness by simply creating a new body, and countless other medical applications. "One thousand huh?" I look to Morgan. "Do you have an idea how we could manage that?"

"We won't get it through killing bandits, that's for sure." Morgan frowns. "I can't think of a business that could amass such an amount in a short amount of time either…"

"If I may." Miriel interrupts. "I have a solution for this as well."

Miriel can do anything, can't she? "And what's that?"

"This spell has potential medical applications, not to mention extending life-spans beyond what is natural is immensely valuable." Miriel says. "So it is quite possible the crown will be willing to grant us the necessary funding for this endeavor."

Oh, like an investment! That makes sense. Besides, if anyone is going to get use out of the spell, it's going to be the royal family because they have enough money to actually afford having it cast. "Well that's great!"

"Indeed." Miriel agrees. "We are fortunate to know prince Chrom and Lady Emmeryn personally as well. As you can imagine, such a spell as this is not viewed kindly by religious individuals. It is seen as ignoring the natural order. So it is fortunate that the royal family will understand our intent from knowing us personally."

Indeed. "Thanks again for all the effort you're putting in Miriel."

"But of course." Miriel says with a smile. "This spell is beyond a simple personal request. Obtaining it is in the interests of science!"

I suppose it is, and how convenient for me. Though when Naga told me to talk to Miriel about this I didn't expect such a difficult process. I assumed Miriel already had a spell for it. I guess simply polymorph isn't permanent enough, but still…

Fifty thousand. Geeze.

###

I find myself not exactly sure what to do. Of course I still have things I'm working on. I'm still practicing swords and writing, and now I'm also trying to improve my crossbow yet again with some help from Noire, but those are just side-projects. Right now there is the question of if we should be trying to get to the south west of Plegia as quickly as possible, or if we want to wait for the political chaos to settle down.

The south west of Plegia is where Severa, Yarne, and potentially Gangrel are. Plegia however, having just lost a war and their king, is understandably a shitshow right how. We can't guarantee it's safe to go there even if we had the full might of the Shepherds (which we won't probably, because they have other stuff to do).

Even with the powerhouse that is Nah, there's a very real chance we'll run into something we can't deal with. Land or sea, we'll have to deal with brigands and/or pirates, finding safe places to stay and restock, and the military deserters turned bandits (far more dangerous than normal bandits) running around the country. Not to mention the fact that Plegia is probably going to be teeming with grimleal what with Validar trying to take charge.

There's also the small, tiny fact that all the future kids are still enjoying time with their parents and I don't want to pull them away from that. I say that's a small fact because they absolutely would come along to help Yarne and Severa regardless of how much they want to stay here.

"So I suppose the question is how much we need to get Severa and Yarne." I explain to Morgan, because she's a lot smarter than me. "Can we afford to wait for the situation in Plegia to calm down, or should we be going ASAP now that the wedding is over with?"

"Hmm, that is a tough question." Morgan muses. "We also have to take into account that we are an Ylisse-associated group going into Plegia after they just suffered a loss in a war against us."

"True." I hadn't considered that. "But at the same time we can't just leave Severa and Yarne to survive on their own."

"Yeah." Morgan agrees. "A pickle, isn't it? We have to take political concerns into account, so I think we should be talking with Father, or Emmeryn honestly."

"Sure, let's just casually walk into the palace to chat with the Exalt. Easy." I snort.

As it turns out, it… well it's not _that_ easy, but it's not exactly difficult. I think us being Shepherds (kinda? It's still not clear if we're technically Shepherds or not) has something to do with it, because with a bit of needling from Morgan we get a clerk to send a request directly to Emmeryn (rather than him dealing with it, which would be standard) and that message is returned within a few hours inviting us to tea.

I can't help but feel like this is an abuse of our position. We get the attention of the most important person in Ylisse for our (mostly) personal wants just on virtue of us being Shepherds. Morgan has no such worries.

"It's not like Chrom or Maribelle are around to ask." She points out. "They're off doing honeymoon things, and by her own admission Lissa doesn't pay attention to politics all that much. Unless we want to talk to someone we don't know, Emmeryn is our go-to for advice here. We can argue our case better face-to-face. We were going to have to run this by her anyway if we want to leave what with Plegia's border being shut down and all."

It still leaves an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Also, I don't like tea.

A servant leads us to Emmeryn's quarters, and Morgan confidently strides inside with me nervously padding after her.

Emmeryn greets us politely. She already has a table set out and tea and some various little pastries ready, and I feel even worse about her going out of her way for us. It doesn't help that I still find her intimidating.

"Morgan, Nathan, thank you for accepting my invitation." Emmeryn murmurs, and inclines her head to us.

Me and Morgan answer in exact opposite ways. Morgan says "no problem!" and I say "no, thank you for being willing to speak with us."

We all sit down around the table, and Emmeryn starts the conversation. She asks how we've been settling in, and if our rooms at the barracks are comfortable, and all the usual pleasantries.

"Your warnings have caused a bit of a stir among the council." Emmeryn says after the pleasantries are out of the way. "However, I'm afraid they are slow to make decisions, though I do believe my brother has plans of his own to aid in the matter."

"Good, we don't want Walhart getting more of a grip on Valentia than he has to." Morgan says.

"Rosanne and Chon'sin should put up a bit more resistance this time with Virion being aware of what's going to happen, as well as a message I sent ahead with him to give to Say'ri and Yen'fay." I add. "And with Tiki hopefully being brought into things, that could swing things even more in our favor."

"Indeed…" Emmeryn murmurs. "Though from the way you speak, you clearly expect Ylisse to get involved."

"I hadn't considered that Ylisse wouldn't." I admit. "Though I suppose Ylisse wouldn't necessarily want to get involved in another war so soon, would they?"

"Precisely." Emmeryn says. "Though of course, we cannot afford to ignore such an issue either, and I do believe my brother would find a way to get involved regardless of Ylisse's forign policy."

That's reassuring to hear at least.

"Though I believe you had something else on your mind when wishing to speak with me, yes?" Emmeryn says. "So please, speak."

"We want to get into Plegia, specifically the southwestern part of it." Morgan says. "Some of the other future kids are there, and we'd rather make sure they're safe sooner than later."

"In addition…" I say, then hesitate. "Erm, pardon, this may seem like an odd question, but did Gangrel survive the war?"

"From what I am aware, Chrom did not wait to see him die. He was left bleeding on the sands." Emmeryn says with a grimace on her face. "Why so?"

"Well, there's a chapter in the game where Gangrel is recruitable, which is also in the southwestern part of Plegia." I say slowly. "And that may be of interest to us as well, though chapters such as his are only questionably reliable for being bonus content and not part of the main game per say."

"Interesting indeed." Emmeryn frowns. "Though I must say, considering what you have told us before regarding Grimleal manipulation, perhaps it is best that Ylisse continues to think Gangrel dead. Gangrel has already paid a heavy price. I would not take away the chance for him to rebuild himself away from the grimleal."

"Yeah… except the situation he's in really isn't conducive to that." I explain. "He gets recruited into a pirate gang, and as the lowest ranking member no less. He doesn't rebuild himself at all. He doesn't have the chance."

"Most unfortunate." Emmeryn says. "Though, I do not think such a thing is high on our list of priorities."

"Fair enough." I say. "Uh, but Severa and Yarne are mildly relevant."

"Of course." Emmeryn agrees. "And they are functionally Ylissian citizens trapped in Plegia at the moment, and therefore Ylisse's responsibility."

I wasn't thinking of it in that way, but yeah, I guess they technically are. That seems like it might have some troublesome political concerns, so I'm surprised Emmeryn is willing to take responsibility for them without question considering the caution she just showed about antagonizing Valm. Maybe it's because _war_ probably isn't on the line with Yarne and Severa considering Plegia is in no position to fight Ylisse.

"Why are you willing to protect Yarne and Severa? Isn't that a political hazard?" Morgan asks, apparently reading my mind. "You weren't willing to step in to stop Valm immediately."

"War is very different from protecting your own citizens. Morally, and politically." Emmeryn explains calmly. "And these two are Ylissian citizens. From a different world, perhaps, but Ylissian nonetheless. Politically wise decision or not, Ylisse has an _obligation_ to aid them. What is the value of a country that does not protect its citizens?"

Honestly, that's not what I was expecting. I'm happy, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't expecting that. I was worried Ylissian policy was going to get in the way of helping Severa and Yarne, not bypass other concerns to make it happen.

"However such an endeavor as rescuing your companions is not to be taken lightly." Emmeryn murmurs. "We cannot be callous in such an operation. It may take some time, if we have time to spare. Is that the case?"

"Well, those paralogues only open up after the Valm war starts. Two years past Gangrel's defeat." I say. "So ostensibly there is time, though we cannot take the game as gospel. _You_ were supposed to die in the game, or at the very least suffer brain damage, and yet here you are."

"Indeed." Emmeryn says. "As such, I can ensure a response in a moderate amount of time. It may not be swift, but it will be professional and efficient."

Morgan's brow furrows and her eyes narrow. "Does moderate mean months, or a year?"

"I do not know." Emmeryn says. "However, I would imagine less than a year. After all, this does seem a mission fit for the Shepherds, yes? The trouble will come in sorting out political concerns and planning how to ensure our rescues are minimally intrusive. We will still be treading on ground that is not ours, regardless of Plegia's political state, and so the less effect we have in Plegia the better. We do not need accusations attempting to convert locals or occupy territory leveled at us, among other concerns."

Right, of course. This is a delicate operation. We're lucky in a way that this is medieval times where such an operation can be carried out without being shared all across the world and causing a political incident and can perhaps even go unnoticed.

This would probably be really sketchy by modern political standards. Probably, maybe. I don't know politics all that well. I'll leave politics to Emmeryn. I'm just thankful we're getting help to do this rather than needing to work with just the future kids.

With all of that out of the way, conversation settles down to more mundane things.

"I usually make a point of knowing all the Shepherds." Emmeryn says. "But with how busy Ylisse has been, I have not been able to do so. This seemed like a good opportunity to get to know yourselves."

"We're Shepherds?" I ask.

"Of course."

I blink in surprise. Morgan doesn't seem shocked. "Didn't you know?" She says.

"No. I thought we were just being allowed to stay in the barracks." I admit.

"Well yeah, that's where Shepherds stay."

"I thought we were guests."

"They could have just put us up in an inn or something Nathan."

"Well yeah, but I don't really _fight_ , I can't be a Shepherd."

"The Shepherds are not so rigidly defined." Emmeryn says with a smile. "Support capabilities are much appreciated."

Augh, I don't want to drag Emmeryn into my insecurities. I can think this over later. "Of course."

The rest of tea time is spent with more generic conversation. Emmeryn is quite interested in the medical advances of Earth in particular, though everything holds her interest to a certain extent. She's equally attentive to Morgan's cheerful recount of our travels getting to Ylisse.

Beyond the stressful stuff involving Yarne and Severa, it's actually a rather nice way to spend the afternoon. I leave feeling a lot less intimidated by Emmeryn than I was before.

###

Now that I have a basic grasp of the Ylissian writing system, I need to start writing things down. There are three main reasons for this. One: my memory is fallible, and will become more unreliable over time. Putting what I know now to paper will ensure I don't forget information. Two: writing information down allows it to be replicable, potentially allowing other people to take this formation with them without the need for me to be there. Three: if anything were to happen to me, I can leave what I know in Morgan's capable hands.

I have a number of things I want to write down, but Awakening stuff comes first for obvious reasons. I don't know exactly how to start, so I just go with trying to put to paper what I remember of the game scene-for-scene. It's messy and garbled, but at least the information will be there.

This becomes my main project after I finish the chess sets (Morgan loves hers, and getting the other sent to Virion is simple. Both of them are higher-quality than the original). I devote hours a day to scribbling on parchment and this necessitates me not spending almost every waking hour with Morgan, which is sad, but it has to happen.

This also means Morgan has to find a way to spend her extra time, and she does this by getting a hobby (as you might expect). Unlike what the games would suggest, she doesn't devote every waking moment to studying military tactics. Instead, she studies game tactics.

Yes, her hobby is studying board games. She's starting with barrels, and mapping out potential opening moves and what needs to be considered to make optimal moves.

"I can totally get some money through bets if I learn to play well!" She chirps when explaining to me her rationelle. "And I'm still studying tactics of some sort at the same time! Win-win!"

She also just likes games, but that's less funny to say. She expresses interest in getting into Multirealm when she has the time, but that's something she's going to leave for later. Morgan also has other things she does in her free time like spending time with her father or going to town or something. My activities are much less varied than hers.

The amount of time I spend on writing steadily increases as the days go on. The Shepherds slowly return to doing their job of protecting Ylisse when Chrom and Maribelle return from their honeymoon, and the future kids are eager to join in, especially when it comes to eliminating Risen. So there are times when it's just me at the barracks and no one else (because, of course, Morgan goes with them as well). I don't ask to come long because I'm completely unnecessary and there needs to be _someone_ with future knowledge remaining in Ylisse to answer questions for Emmeryn and the council.

I start with an hour of writing a day, and within a week that becomes two, and by the end of the month my writing time increases to six hours a day minimum.

I finish writing everything I can think of about Awakening within a few weeks, and after that I start on two more writing projects. I start writing down as much random knowledge as I can remember, starting with medical and scientific information. My other side-project is fulfilling a promise I made earlier to myself, which was to write down all the board games I can remember and their rules and boards and just everything about them. This is for my sake and for Morgan, as Morgan expressed interest in a number of games from Earth.

The Shepherds are gone for long periods of time dealing with major Risen infestations, so I fall into a haze of waking up, eating, writing, doing my exercises, and then going back to sleep. Without Morgan or Noire around I don't have anything _fun_ to do, so the days start to blend together. My sleep schedule slowly starts to change as well. I go to sleep later and later, and wake up later and later until I'm waking up at noon and going to sleep in the early hours of the morning.

The only breaks to my schedule are the odd meeting at the castle where my game knowledge is needed. It was nerve-wracking the first time, but I quickly realized that I was of little overall interest to the council due to how basic my knowledge was, even if it was future knowledge. Knowing that no one really cared about me, paradoxically, helped me feel more calm. I also helped that Emmeryn never requested I stay for very long. I was brought in when questions needed to be answered, and allowed to leave after. I needed not stay for entire meetings.

Other things that broke up my routine were messages. I received a few from Miriel, the first of which mentioning that she would be viewing the body-altering spellcast very soon, and that she had obtained funding just before she left and forgot to mention it to me. The others detailed what progress she was making, and she mentioned that she hoped to be able to safely use the spell on a person within a few months, perhaps even less time.

I'm never going to underestimate Miriel again. That's an incredibly quick development time.

I also, of course, got messages from Morgan, and she recounted all the various goings-on around the camp and all the gossip she heard, as well as any new games she played. Because of the relative mundanity of my own life, I usually responded with only a few lines about myself, and dedicated the rest of my letters to making crosswords, sudoku puzzles, and other little paper games for her to entertain herself with.

In one of her letters Morgan reported that the first Sudoku I sent her took an entire afternoon to complete, which surprised me because I thought it would be very simple for her. Her clear speed did increase rapidly after that though. I also made a habit of including a few sheets dedicated to paper puzzles in each letter for her, rather than just filling in the leftover parchment I hadn't written on with one or two.

The most interesting message has to be the one from Virion, however. Actually, it's three letters all delivered at once. One is from Virion, the other from Say'ri, and yet another from Tiki. To say I feel profoundly unworthy of getting letters from these important individuals is an understatement.

I open Say'ri's first, because out of all three of those I have the least idea of what to expect from her. Her penmanship is so heavily cursive and stylized that I can barely read it, though it is very pretty.

The long and short of it is that she's grateful for the warning, and informs me that Tiki did indeed confirm my status as outworlder. Other than that her message seems very… political? Or maybe it's just generic pleasantries. She says she hopes to be able to work with Ylisse at some point and thanks me for facilitating cooperation between Rosanne and Chon'sin and she hopes that we can one day meet and actually it's rather generic now that I think of it. This is either just a polite message, or she has no idea what to say. Maybe both. I don't imagine it's often she writes a formal message to someone who is essentially a peasant.

Maybe. I don't know. I can't read minds. Maybe she mistook me for a diplomat and this is a very standard letter?

Tiki's message is interesting. It's very short for one, as by Tiki's own admittance she has very little to say but took it as her duty to make contact with me and ensure my wellbeing.

" _My mother has brought you here and so it is her responsibility, and therefore mine as her daughter, to ensure you are well._ " The letter reads. " _I do hope we shall meet someday; I am curious as to what you may know of times past._ "

Well, I don't know a whole lot about Marth, but I know a little bit. When that time comes, hopefully I won't disappoint. Also, saying that I'm her responsibility seems a tad overkill in my opinion. Even if Naga brought me here, she also gave me a second chance at life, so that more than evens it out I think.

Virion's message is what I look at last, and it's easily the longest (thrice as long as Say'ri's in fact). There's a lot to it, from updating me on the situation with Valm and Chon'sin (the alliance has been successful, and Say'ri protected, though he cannot say how on the chance the message is intercepted) to informing me about the future kids I asked him to find (he has yet to hear back from most of his men but they have indeed been dispatched, including Cherche) to thanking me for the chess set I sent him and complimenting me on learning to write so quickly (as I did include instructions on how to play, written by my own hand. It's probably quite shoddy because I wrote that only a few weeks into learning, but if he's complimenting me I assume it was at least legible). He also makes the suggestion that I could turn making chess into a business if I can refine my crafting a bit further, as he can see many nobles enjoying it.

Virion's message is nice to get honestly. It almost feels like talking to a friend, even if we're far closer to business acquaintances than actual friends.

It doesn't really change my overall actions though. I still spend most of my time in my room, writing. I know I've mentioned it before, but without Morgan or Noire I really have nothing I care to do aside from writing. There's no point in going shopping because there's nothing I care to get. I've never been much for plays or horse races or any other form of medieval entertainment. Getting a job wouldn't exactly make my life any _better_ so that's pointless when I already have income from technically being a Shepherd.

Once again I'm worried I'm getting something I don't deserve in that respect. What is it, exactly, I'm being paid for? What am I doing that warrants me being called a Shepherd? Is it my future knowledge? Is it keeping Morgan entertained with puzzles and games? Is it what I set up with Virion?

Okay, that last thing makes a certain amount of sense. Maybe that's what I'm being paid for, in addition to providing information at meetings. I don't know that as a fact though.

I need to do something. I was doing something when I was writing down everything I knew about Awakening, but I need to do something else that's actively helpful. Writing down random tidbits of knowledge might be helpful in the long run, but on a moment-to-moment basis it's less useful.

That leads me to the question of how one replicates written works in this world. Does the printing press exist, or do written works need to be replicated by scribes? What am I hoping to replicate anyways? The paper games? Is that something I should be charging for, since they're new? Or would that be covered under what I'm being paid for as a Shepherd? Would anyone even _care_ about the paper games beyond Morgan?

Should I even be considering business ventures at all? I have no idea what to do. How do you do this whole "adulting" thing? I never learned how.

That's all too much of a mess for me to sort out on my own. I don't know how to start a business, and I'd much rather have Morgan's help if I was going to anyways. So instead of potentially inventing the printing press, I start to create more simple board games with easy-to-create pieces: checkers, abalone, snakes and ladders, yahtzee, all that good stuff. Hopefully by the time Morgan is back I'll have a small library of games for us to play.

This is on top of me writing, of course. It's not like I do anything else, so it's easy to let the game creation overtake the rest of the free time I wasn't using anyways.

In the back of my mind I acknowledge that I'm allowing a work obsession to overtake my life to cope with being lonely (because Morgan isn't here), but I can't really bring myself to care. This world has little to entertain me beyond the Shepherds and future children anyways. I'm a child of the internet age, and for a situation such as mine that is very much a negative thing because there aren't many non-electronic things that can hold my interest.

At the peak of my work-focused lifestyle, about three months after they left, the Shepherds return.

###

The Shepherds return in the morning, and because of my new sleep schedule that means I'm asleep when Morgan rushes into my room. It's not exactly unpleasant to wake up seeing Morgan's face after a month and a half of not seeing her though.

"Oh." I say groggily when Morgan pokes me awake. "Hi."

"Hi? That's it?" She pouts.

"I'm sleepy."

"It's almost noon Nathan."

"Yeah, that's wake-up time. Not eleven." I mumble. I sleepily pull her into a hug. "Good to see you again."

"You've completely destroyed your sleep schedule, haven't you?" Morgan asks, but eagerly reciprocates. "What have you been doing so late that you wake up at noon?"

"Working."

"On _what_?"

"Games." I mumble. "Or writing."

"Why so late?"

"Habit. Can't focus during the day." I say, and that's the truth. "There's just something about the late hours of the night that makes it easier to focus."

"If you say so!" Morgan says. "Now come on, come on, there's something you need to…" She catches herself before she reveals anything. "Just come!"

"Okay…" I yawn.

I take a moment to get dressed as Morgan bounces near the door, and as soon as I'm ready she drags me out of my room to the mess hall. Miriel is waiting there with an uncharacteristically eager smile on her face.

"Nathan! Good news!" Miriel says without preamble. "The spell is ready!"

"What?" I blink. "Already?"

"Yes!" Miriel says. "Though, there are some additional factors that came up during testing that you need to be made aware of."

Testing? She tested this? On who? "Okay."

"Perhaps we should sit." Miriel says, and we do just that. She brandishes one of her many notebooks and opens it somewhere in the middle. There's no bookmark, but she opened to that page on her first try. That's not because of her photographic memory, that's just her flexing on us. "Firstly, the spell is expensive to cast. It requires a large amount of mana, likely necessitating several mana gems, and it also requires a mana generator. The gems, minus the generator, are consumed upon casting."

Okay, but… "Why a mana generator?"

"The spell is not instant." Miriel says. "In fact… I theorize it will take _quite_ some time. It seems to scale in time spent with the size of the body being created, and it scales exponentially. I have not figured the exact ratio of mass to time needed, but the process will likely take somewhere close to a year."

"A _year!?_ " I shout. "I- but- how!? Why!?"

"The spell must first deconstruct your body, minus the brain, and then it uses much of that same mass to reconstruct it in your desired form." Miriel explains, pointing to her notebook. I don't understand half of the jargon and calculations there. "Such a delicate process takes much time, as you might expect. The spell functions by putting you into a coma for that duration, and only when your new body is fully constructed will it allow you to be woken."

I suppose it makes sense such complicated magic would take time, but a year is a long time. A year is longer than I've been in this world!

"From what I could gather, despite the person I paid trying not to give me information…" Miriel says. "It is normal for people wishing the spell to be cast on themselves to fake their deaths before the spell is cast on them, and then be reborn, so to speak, in a new identity. Often they pass themselves off as a long lost grand-nephew of their old identity, and set up a key item or key phrase that designates them as heir to their companies or land."

So if there's any doubt this spell is normally used for super sketchy reasons, it's gone now. I wonder how long some of the richest people in the world have actually lived with the benefit of this spell. This feels like black-market stuff.

"Cool huh?" Morgan chirps. She's smiling, but the smile looks tense, nervous.

"Yeah…" I say. "Cool."

"I have taken the liberty of purchasing the needed materials," Miriel says, and draws the gems from her pockets in a flourish. She looks very eager. "As soon as you can put your affairs in order, we can initiate the spell. It will require a simple mind-link to ensure your physical appearance is recreated as you wish it to be, as the spell is entirely in the hands of the caster."

"Right." I say. This doesn't feel real. This seems entirely too convenient. Miriel is superhuman. She saw a spell _once_ , then managed to effectively recreate it within a month. "That's… that's fantastic. You're incredible Miriel."

"Many thanks." Miriel says proudly. She gathers up her books and gems and nods to us. "When you are prepared, speak with me. As I am aware, the Shepherds will be remaining here for a week."

A week to complete anything that needs completing. That's not a lot of time, but to be fair, there's not a lot of stuff I need to do. "I understand. Again, thank you Miriel."

"It is my pleasure." The mage smiles. "And many thanks to you for being the first human subject. That is no small ask."

Morgan grips my arm tightly. "Nathan."

"Yeah?"

"Can we go back to your room?"

"Sure." Is something wrong? "See you later Miriel."

Morgan pulls me back to my room. I sit on my bed while Morgan paces the floor.

"Okay, so, what's wrong?" I ask.

"Not… ugh." Morgan wrings her hands. "So you're going to go ahead with the spell, right?"

"Well yeah."

"I- we-" Morgan scowls. "I don't want to sound needy."

What? Why? How? "I don't understand."

"You're going to be gone for a year." She says. "Right?"

"Yeah."

"A year is longer than my memory." Morgan says. "A year is a long time to me! It's not that I don't want you to do it, but… I also want you around."

Ah. Of course. I've gone downhill with a month and a bit without Morgan, but that's nothing compared to a year. Of course, Morgan is less emotionally fragile than me, but one year is hardly an insignificant amount of time. "I- yeah, that that does suck."

"Understatement of the century!" Morgan says, throwing up her arms. "Nathan, I don't know if you realize this, but you're the person I'm closest to. Not my father, not one of the other kids, _you_. I've known my father for all of a month, and I'm not particularly close with the other kids. I… I actually don't know what I'll be doing without you."

"Hey, you just spent multiple months away from me." I soothe. 'If you can manage that about ten times over, you're fine."

"It's not the same!" Morgan protests. "I could write to you all the time! You wrote back! You gave me games! You _listened_ and gave me something to talk about! I- I spent half my time with the Shepherds thinking about things to write to you about, or making plans for when I saw you again, or practicing chess! My _life_ revolves around you!"

Oh. Oh. Ohh… "I… well I could say the same. I've sort of fallen apart without you around the last month and a bit. Got nothing else to do but write and craft."

"Surely you went out on the town or-"

I interrupt quietly. "Some days I literally didn't leave the barracks, and when I did, it was because Emmeryn called me for a meeting, or because I needed groceries."

"Then you know what it's going to be like!" Morgan says. She's almost shouting. "But I don't want to _stop_ you from doing this, I just… I'm going to be lonely…"

"Yeah." I say quietly. "I get it."

Morgan's shoulders slump. "I don't want to be needy."

"You aren't." I say. "You really, absolutely, aren't. I'm the needy one."

"That's not true!"

"Agree to disagree then." I say. I also get Morgan to stop pacing by grabbing her arm and pulling her into a hug. "You'll be fine Morgan. There's so much more to the world than _me_."

"I know." Morgan mumbles. She squeezes me back. "But I _like_ this part of the world."

"I like you too, and I'll be back." I hum. "But who knows, maybe in a year's time you'll have changed. You'll have nearly thrice as much life experience after all."

"You make it sound like I'm going to be looking for a new boyfriend."

"Maybe you will, you already have a go-ahead from me to explore other options."

"I thought you were joking about that."

"I wasn't." I say honestly. "You don't have to of course, I'm merely saying that I won't complain. You didn't know much about the world or other people before choosing me after all."

Morgan frowns. "I don't think I'll find someone else."

"That's fine." I say. "I'm just giving you the option."

"I could have done that without your permission."

"Of course, but you would have been worried about my reaction, wouldn't you?"

"Well… yeah."

"And there's my point. I'm not trying to be patronizing here, I'm just saying I wouldn't be offended. You don't have to worry about me. Take care of yourself first, Morgan."

"That's your job though." Morgan grumbles. "You take care of me, I take care of you."

I pat her on the back. "And we can return to that when I come back. In the meantime, let your father take care of you, and take care of him."

"It's not the same…" She mumbles. "I can't roleplay with my father. I can't sleep next to him. He's not _you_."

"And thank God for that." I tease gently. "Maybe he can instill some _manners_ into you, young lady."

"First you say I have chicken legs, then you call me flat, and now you call me rude." Morgan says. "You're awful."

"Well I am a terrible person, who's manipulating you for my own benefit." I joke. "Oh beloved prize of my collection."

"What happened to all the compliments though?" She pouts. "I liked the compliments more!"

"Maybe there isn't much to compliment." I say with a smile. We both know this is a joke. "Alas, you simply look too young for my _mature_ and _refined_ tastes."

Morgan rolls her eyes to the sky. "Oh sure, because it's not like your 'collection' includes me and a prepubescent dragon girl."

"Shh, we don't talk about that." I say, grinning widely. "Besides, that collection also includes Noire."

"You're going to wake up after a year, and I'm going to look totally different, then you won't be able to insult me." Morgan huffs.

"With that growth spurt you always claim is totally going to happen?" I say. "Suuure Morgan. And I thought we'd already established that you _like_ being insulted."

"I do, but compliments are better." Morgan says.

"If you say so bitch."

Morgan snorts and laughs, and I pat her on the back again. "I'm going to miss this…"

"I know."

"Dad isn't the same."

"He's not so bad though." I murmur.

"I know…"

"And you're sort of friends with Noire and Nah, right?"

"Kinda?"

"Well, you've always been good at talking to people." I say. I squish her face between my hands, and she pouts at me because of it. It's a very cute picture. "You can make friends if you try Morgan. You don't have to be lonely."

"I knooow." She grumbles. "But you better come back on time. Who else is going to snuggle me, feed my ego, and call me a whore?"

I think the fact that those words are a compliment is a testament to how weird our relationship is. "That's out of my control, but I'll try my best."

"No excuses!"

###

Setting my affairs in order mostly takes the shape of replicating key information. I get Morgan's help to make a few copies of my notes about Severa and Yarne to give to Emmeryn, Chrom, Robin, and a copy for Morgan herself.

I also have Morgan look over all the notes I've written on Awakening to see if there's anything that needs clarifying, and make a few edits in the margins of the parchment. She's shocked that I managed to write all of this in a few weeks.

"Like I said, I was writing for six hours a day after a bit." I say. "I got a lot done."

"Did you at least remember to eat?"

"I was busy, Morgan, not oblivious." I say. "Though in hindsight, I think I would have preferred to come along if the alternative is sitting in the barracks doing nothing."

"You would have gotten chores." She warns.

"Better than sitting in the barracks all day." I sigh. "I would have had you around, and Noire, and I might have actually been able to be useful."

"You say that like you did nothing for three months."

For once, I can agree that I actually did something useful. Those Awakening notes were important, and writing down my general knowledge is also useful. " _More_ useful then."

"Fair enough."

Emmeryn has no problem with me being unavailable for a year, what with my notes to answer questions. She smiles serenely and wishes me well, and reassures me that Yarne and Severa will be rescued. The mission is scheduled for next month in fact. The council has finally nailed down all the details to make it work, and my knowledge is mostly unneeded at this point.

The next thing I do is explain all the games I made to Morgan. I have instructions written down, but that's no substitute for a demonstration. She doesn't seem to like yahtzee very much. Maybe it's the luck involved. Checkers and abalone get resounding approval from her though. Abalone seems to be the one game I'm able to consistently beat her at after, even after a dozen rounds when she would have usually pulled ahead.

The last thing I do is spend time with Morgan. Now that's a given, but it's important nonetheless. If I'm going to be gone for a year, I've got to make this week count. I go all-out with making jokes, roleplaying, snuggling, and anything I can think of to make her happy.

I also create a stockpile of paper games for Morgan in whatever free time I have. It won't be nearly enough to last a year, it probably won't even last a month, but at least this way she has something from me she can do when she wants. I get a few dozen paper games prepared before the end of the week, though it doesn't feel like nearly enough. I should have been stockpiling these from the moment Miriel told me she might have the spell done soon.

I'm less worried about the spell than you might expect. By Miriel's account it should be painless because I won't even be awake for the process, and I have absolute trust in Miriel's abilities. I'm more worried about the fact that I'm casually leaving Morgan for a year. That's almost twice as long as she can remember.

This is going to be a blink-and-it's-over situation for me, but Morgan is actually going to have to live through the year.

I'm out of time by the end of the week. A few people cram into a secure room in the castle where my body will be kept for the year. The spell will wrap me in a transparent, solid, pill-shaped container of magic as it does its work to prevent anything from getting in and interfering. That also helps with Miriel being able to monitor the process, just to make sure everything is going as expected.

"The spell is very slow." Miriel reassures. "If something _does_ go wrong, I will have plenty of time to interfere and fix it. I am also capable of reversing the spell midway if needed, and returning you to your current body."

And she figured this spell out in a few months somehow. No one else really seems surprised by this. I have a feeling Miriel pulling off something impressive like this is a relatively common occurrence.

The people that have come to see me off so to speak, are the future kids (Laurent is here mostly to help Miriel, rather than any connection to me) Robin, and oddly enough Chrom.

"You are a Shepherd." Chrom says. "I would be a terrible boss if I didn't make sure you were alright going into something like this."

I can see why Chrom is a leader. He's a nice guy. That's a woefully insufficient reason to call him a leader, but I can see why that would help.

Morgan is almost panicking, which is not something I've ever seen from her.

"Your _heart_ is going to be destroyed." She whispers. "Your _heart_!"

"I know." I say. "It's fine. That's what all the mana gems are for. They'll keep my brain alive. I'll get another heart after a bit. It's the last thing that's destroyed and the first thing that's recreated."

"How can you be so calm about this?!"

"It's basically a major medical operation." I shrug. "A bit intimidating, but nothing to worry too much about. Besides, Naga herself told me to ask Miriel, and Miriel wouldn't be going ahead with this if she wasn't sure it would work, or at least that it was safe to reverse."

I guess I take it for granted how familiar the idea of major medical operations are to me. Someone has to get a lung taken out? Sucks, but okay. Removing a tumor in the brain? Delicate work, but yeah, that can probably be done. For Morgan though? That's probably an alien concept.

"But still…"

"I'll be fine Morgan." I say, and ruffle her hair. "I'll see you in a year. I expect to hear of all your amazing accomplishments. Morgan: Risen slayer, hero of Ylisse, heartbreaker! Star of the court and beloved by all she meets!"

"Don't change the subject!" She whines.

"How is this not dark magic?" Noire frets as she watches Miriel prepare. "A-Are those going to have enough power?"

"If they are not, I will simply purchase more." Miriel says. "The spell is not as delicate to maintain as it might seem. It will sustain Nathan through the mana generator alone. The mana gems are there to induce progress. There is no fear of him dying from a lack of mana gems."

Noire looks at me. "A-Are you sure this is fine? You're going to be alright?"

"Yes Noire." I say, and remove a hand from Morgan's grip to pat the other girl on the shoulder. "It's perfectly alright."

How odd that _I_ am the one comforting _them_ and not the other way around.

Kjelle seems uncomfortable with the whole situation. She doesn't speak, so I don't know exactly what she's worried about, and I don't ask because I'm busy calming Morgan down.

"You're all worrying too much." Nah says. "If Naga said to go to Miriel, then it's fine. She wouldn't lie."

Despite that, I can still see Nah's white-knuckled grip on her crossed arms.

"How cruel of you to leave me to manage Morgan on my own." Robin says with a wry smile. I think he's trying to break the tension, because he too seems very nervous judging by his stiff posture. "I barely survived three months of her, and now I have to manage a year?"

"Don't let her roll into any fires." I smile "Play games, take her for walks, and treat her every one in awhile."

"I'm not a dog Nathan!"

"Oh, and don't forget to water her and give her plenty of sunlight." I say. Morgan tries to put a hand over my mouth, but I'm taller than her and simply tilt my head up. "And remove bugs from her."

"Nathaaan!"

Robin raises an eyebrow, recognizing that I'm making a joke but probably not understanding it, and then he nods and says nothing.

"The preparations are complete." Miriel says. She has a bunch of mana gems laid out in a circle around a thin brass arch with the mana generating gem embedded in the top. The arch (basically just a thin pole) is where I'm going to need to stand. She also has dozens of sigils and drawn around the arch in consecutive circles. "Whenever you are prepared, please strip and enter the designated area, and I will initiate the mind link and subsequently begin casting."

Because of the whole "tear your body apart and remake it" thing, you can't be clothed during the spell, and I mean… fair enough. Embarrassing, but fair enough.

"Alright everyone, out." Robin instructs, and herds most of the future kids out of the room. Kjelle gives me a clap on the shoulder, Nah (who really doesn't know me all that much) gives me a single nod, and Noire hastily hugs me before fleeing out the door. Robin and Chrom exit after them, leaving me with just Miriel, Laurent, and Morgan.

Morgan crushes me into a hug that very possibly bruises my ribs in the process, and I rub her back in reassurance. I can feel her breathing, and it's quite rapid. "It's okay Morgan, I'll be fine. Deep breaths…"

Morgan does her best to listen, and after a minute her breathing is calmer and she reluctantly pushes away from me. She opens her mouth as if to say something, manages a small "be well" then closes it and backs away, watching nervously.

The three of them then turn their back as I strip and take my place under the arch (and politely shield myself with my hands). "Alright, let's get this over with."

Miriel and Laurent are too focused to be awkward when they turn back around, and Morgan is too worried. That makes the situation a lot more manageable for me. Miriel twists her hands to cast a quick spell and says. "Now, visualize your desired form. You may wish to include another object or a setting in your mental image as reference so your height can be accurate."

I do so. The mind-link feels weird. It's not a total mind-link, I can only feel Miriel's surface thoughts. Calculations and observations mostly as she runs over what she needs to do in her mind. I close my eyes to help with the focus, and visualize my old body. Long brown hair, blue eyes, skinny, all that stuff. I imagine looking into a full-length mirror, and imagine the brass arch is over my head. I also bring up my hand to about where I think the head-height of my old body would be, then open my eyes.

"Is that image what you are going to use?" Miriel asks. "I will be using this image to feed the spell. Your subconscious will fill in the rest of the minor details, but you must be sure the major strokes are accurate."

"I'm sure." I say. It's as close as I'll get anyways. It's been half a year since I saw my old body in a mirror. "I'm ready Miriel."

"Alright then." Miriel murmurs. "I will begin casting. "Laurent, be prepared to lend power to the spell if my own reserves are not sufficient."

"Of course."

Morgan rapidly clasps and unclasps her hands as the spellcast starts. I have to keep the image of my desired form in mind, so I can't reassure her like I want to.

The translucent shell shimmers into existence around my body, and a moment later I can feel myself being levitated off the ground and suspended within it.

"You need no longer focus." Miriel says, still twisting her hands to cast the spell with no less than half a dozen glowing orange circles in front of her hands. Our mind-link abruptly fizzles away. Miriel isn't looking at me anymore, she's focused on the spell circles. I can see sweat on her forehead. "The spell… Laurent."

"The spell has already processed your mental image." Laurent provides. I guess Miriel can't focus on speaking and casting at the same time anymore. Laurent's voice is muffled, like he's speaking through a blanket. "You should begin to feel lethargic within a minute or two."

Finally, with that out of the way, I can look Morgan in the eye. Her hands are balled into fists so tightly that I worry her fingernails are going to make her palms bleed. I smile and stick my tongue out at her, just to try and reassure her. I'm in no pain, there's nothing to worry about.

I can see her sniff and rub her eyes. Apparently she was holding it in before, because now she is absolutely crying and I'm in no position to help.

"It's fine." I mouth, keeping a smile on my face. I bring up one hand and wave. "See you in a year!"

Morgan waves back, still sniffling.

Lethargy shoots through me all at once. I yawn and try to keep my eyes open for as long as possible so I can keep looking at Morgan, but I only last another minute. Eventually my eyes are forced closed, and sleep overtakes my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, yeah. If you were expecting a spell to just poof Nathan's body back to how it was, you're wrong. This serves a two-fold purpose. One: it allows for a rapid timeskip for us to get to the Valm arc more quickly. Two: it allows me to establish the new norm of Morgan being a main POV character because spoilers: you're getting a Morgan chapter next.
> 
> There's so many little details I want to touch on and so many things I want to include, but I can't shove them all into these chapters. I want to touch more on Nah, Laurent, some of the Shepherds, but I can't drag down the pace of the story too much either. Ah well. Such are the trials of a writer.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something something Morgan. I'm glad to have a chapter away from Nathan for a while. As much as I've actually come to appreciate his POV and him as a character, I also feel like a bit of distance from him is needed, and Morgan needs time to breathe so to speak.
> 
> Also, I'm realizing I've never written Robin normally. I'm so used to Robin being whatever I want him to be (because of The Robin Variable) that I have no idea what to do with a normal Robin. Normal Robin is so… bland. That's part of why I made him an Ylissian patriot, to give him some character trait that I could work with beyond "Morgan's Father".

If Laurent and Miriel are tired of my constant questions and fretting, they don't show it. They patiently answer my questions, even when I ask the same one again and again, and never let slip that they think I'm being irrational.

I get that it's science, I get that Naga herself gave the go-ahead for this, but that doesn't mean I'm not worried. I don't understand how Nathan, who is usually a nervous wreck at the smallest of perceived issues, was more-or-less calm about having his entire body deconstructed and rebuilt.

His worries weren't even about the process so much as the fact that he might be in pain or discomfort afterwards. He was worried about _aches_ more than the actual spell!

It takes me a few days to get myself together and stop constantly pestering Miriel and Laurent. Father tries his very best to distract me. Usually he's quite busy, but he puts aside time to play chess, walk around towns and talk about everything he's seen and done so far, and he even lets me help with his work to try and take my mind off things.

It helps a little. Not as much as I want, but a little. I love Father of course, but we don't know how to talk to each other. We're just so different. Father is serious, and I'm light-hearted. Father is calm, and I'm excitable. Father likes work, and I prefer free time. Our senses of humor don't line up very well either.

And it doesn't help that this is all so different from my memories. We don't have a house, I'm no longer young and naive, and he's busy dealing with his own life and (as much as he tries to hide it) doesn't have time for me. Father has his own problems to sort out. He's not ready to be a parent at the moment, and I can't blame him for that.

I find distraction in Nathan's piles of notes. His handwriting is messy, much more so than he uses for letters, though it's not illegible. He also tends to use slang and casual speech in his notes rather than writing formally. I spend time reading everything he has to say about this world ("the world of Awakening" he calls it; named after the game title if I'm remembering correctly). He's not going to be here, so if anyone needs information from him specifically it's going to have to come from these notes, so I'm going to do my best to memorize them.

A lot of the notes are restating things I already know, because I _do_ actually pay attention when Nathan speaks.

I also immediately establish a schedule to ration out the paper games Nathan made for me. There's about fifty of them, so I can do one every eight days or so and they'll last me a year.

Nathan really made a lot of these in a short amount of time.

It's unfair to put all the onus on Father to keep me busy, so I make some tasks for myself as well. I've been putting off some things for a while.

The first thing I address has been a running joke between me and Nathan for a while, but it's also a legitimate concern: my growth. I want to know if I will ever grow again, because I feel like I should. I don't just mean I _want_ to be taller, I mean some part of my subconscious memory makes me feel like I haven't changed when I should have.

So that's why I gather all of Nathan's notes on the subject (he thankfully wrote down everything he knew about growth defects, maybe anticipating I would need this information) and go to Miriel.

The mage is highly intrigued, and quite happy to have another unique project. Nathan's notes on the pituitary gland are extremely basic, but it's enough that Miriel can locate it when dissecting a rat. Miriel isn't sure what she can do about studying hormone levels, but she does have another idea.

"It would be natural to assume that there are certain changes that occur in the brain's structure as one matures." Miriel says. "And it is also natural to assume that there would be some significant changes that occur through puberty. If I can identify these changes in humans, I can check to see if you have fully undergone those changes or not. In addition, if I can create a spell that allows me to look at your brain, I can check for more obvious issues such as tumors."

That works for me. A spell that visualizes things is not all that complicated as it is simply scrying but applied differently, so she should be able to create such a spell from scratch in a matter of weeks. Studying brain development will take a bit longer, but with the help of the imaging spell it shouldn't take overly long to get at least a basic idea of what's going on.

Miriel says this like it's oh-so simple, and I can't help but think that if it were anyone but Miriel this might take several years instead of maybe a few months.

So, anyways, I have other things I want to do too. I want to plan for the future, because I absolutely _haven't_ been doing that.

Think about it. I live either in a tent, or in a barracks. Those are supposed to be temporary. Those aren't _homes_ , even if they're places to rest.

Basically I'm saying "where am I going to live after this whole Grima thing is done with?", because in case you haven't noticed I don't have a house, nor does Father. I don't fancy living in a barracks for the rest of my life, and it would be rude to expect Father to buy a house just for my sake, or to expect him to let me stay (okay, maybe that's slightly less unreasonable), so I have to sort myself out.

Or, you know, make a plan to sort myself out eventually. I guess I don't really need a proper home until Grima's gone because I'll be on the move anyways. I guess that means I need to put money aside.

Yaaay, money-management. It's as boring as it sounds. I don't exactly have time to ask around about prices on houses in town before the Shepherds leave to go get Severa and Yarne, but I'll remember that for later. Thank Naga I get paid now, so I can actually stockpile money instead of just spending it all the time.

Next on my list is… uh… a hobby. A hobby that isn't games. A solo hobby. Because games remind me of Nathan, which is great except when it makes me feel lonely.

I choose magic as my hobby, if you can call it a hobby. By that I mean I start messing around with spell circles and try not to blow myself up in the process. I'll leave it at that, because I think it will take a while before I get to a point that I'm inventing spells. You don't want to hear me talk math all day, because that's mostly what spellcraft is.

My hobby is math, and you damn well better bet it's cool! Eventually I'll invent a spell that will blow up a mountain or turn dirt into diamonds or something! Just you wait!

While I'm sorting my life out, the Shepherds are on their way to Plegia. Specifically, the southwestern part of Plegia. We're finding Severa and Yarne, and oh boy, that means more boat travel.

Boat travel, as it turns out, is really boring when you do it for more than a week at a time, especially when you're avoiding all the ports because you don't want Plegia to know you're there. Just endless ocean water, progressively less tasty food, and a bunch of increasingly antsy Shepherds crammed into a space that no one really wants to be staying in for two and a half months.

Because there are just under thirty of us, sleeping arrangements are… cramped. Four people to a room sort of cramped. Naturally, that means me, Noire, Kjelle, and Nah share a room, but it's still not the best.

Surprisingly, Kjelle isn't the problem point. She keeps her cool rather well. It's mostly Nah who has issues.

"Stop being so loud!" Nah snaps at Kjelle during our tenth day at sea. "How am I supposed to sleep with you making so much noise?"

Kjelle is unimpressed. "I am polishing my lance, this is just about the quietest thing I can do. Also, it is two in the afternoon, why are you sleeping?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Nah growls. "Clean my dragonstone for the seventh time? Help Miriel torture rats? Lose to Morgan at one of Nathan's games for the fiftieth time?"

"She's not torturing rats." I say. "She's doing science."

"Same thing." Nah grumbles. "Miriel's "science" is built on rat torture. She spent the last month transforming rats into different rats, and most of them died."

Yeah, admittedly the tests Miriel ran to perfect the spell for Nathan were rather… uh… gruesome in their results sometimes. There's a reason she wasn't using human test subjects.

"It's only rat brains." I say. "They're interesting."

"The _you_ go torture rats." Nah grumbles. "And leave me in peace."

"You can literally hear people walking on deck right now." Kjelle says flatly. "It's not going to be that much quieter if we leave."

"But it _will_ be quieter." Nah says.

"I realize you're in a foul mood, but this is our room as well." Kjelle says. "So, frankly, deal with it. You're a Shepherd. A soldier. You've dealt with worse before."

"That doesn't make this any better." Nah growls. "I still hate it."

I understand. I really do. I'm frustrated and bored myself. I don't have much to distract myself. No one wants to play games with me, I don't have that many people I can really talk to, and of course no one is going to do a bit with me or cuddle.

Granted I think it would be weird if someone _was_ willing to cuddle. Except maybe Nowi. I could see Nowi going for it.

The last three months gave me a taste of what it was like to not have constant companionship, but the boat makes that all the more apparent because there's little to do and nowhere to go, while in camp there was usually a chore you could do, or you could go for a walk or go to a town or tend the campfire. There was just so much more to distract me.

In hindsight, this was the worst possible mission I could have gone on right after losing Nathan. A mission that makes it very clear just how lonely I'm going to be, even while surrounded by other people.

"So do I." Kjelle says with a surprising touch of sympathy to her voice. "But we have to put up with it."

Nah's fists clench on the sheets, and then she sighs and lies against her pillow. "Is there some sort of spell to block out the noise…?"

"M-Maybe." Noire murmurs. "I could ask Mother."

"Nevermind." Nah grumbles. It's not surprising she doesn't want to deal with Tharja, even if it might solve her problem. Almost no one wants to deal with Tharja. I haven't been able to get much of a read on Tharja either. I can't tell if she's a jerk or if it's a very carefully cultivated facade, because both are plausible.

Oh, right. Nathan mentioned that in the game Tharja was obsessed with my father, and as far as I can tell that's just not true here. It's one of those inconsistencies between game and reality like Emmeryn's survival.

The bright side of this trip is that Miriel has plenty of time to run her tests on the rats she's brought along (and keeps very carefully contained, of course). Once I get over the yuck factor of cutting open a rat, it's actually rather interesting to figure out what everything does with the help of a few weak electrical pulses.

Miriel is a bit more observant than me of course, and she notices some things of interest in young and older rat brains. She notices something which she identifies as something called "grey matter" described in Nathan's notes. It doesn't look very grey to me, it looks brown, but whatever. Miriel is the scientist.

Miriel also quickly develops the imaging spell, and within twelve days of us leaving shore she's ready to use it on a human being. She tests it on herself first, and when she has Maribelle verify that there were no negative effects, she is ready to use it on others.

In order to identify if there's anything weird with me, she needs to get a look at some people who we're fairly sure _don't_ have issues. That's not particularly difficult. She images the few people around my presumed age like Lissa and Donnel, uses Ricken for the image of someone who hasn't hit puberty yet (a woman would be more useful just for consistency's sake, but we don't have that aside from Nah, who is a manakete and therefore can't be relied upon for human brain anatomy), and then takes liberal looks at a number of adult Shepherds like Maribelle, herself, Sully, Noire, Chrom, and Father.

I'm last simply for making any differences all the more apparent.

"There is no guarantee this will show anything relevant." Miriel warns. "While there are some minor patterns I have noticed in the aging process, they are just that: minor. The changes are also much less drastic through puberty than through the stages of infancy. We may have to attempt something else."

"Okay."

The spell only takes a few seconds, but the meticulous drawing of the images takes a while. The spell doesn't show one image, it shows multiple. It shows my brain as a whole (which is mildly creepy to have floating in front of me), a vertical cross-section, a horizontal cross-section, and a close look at the pituitary gland (because that's what's potentially important).

The drawing takes about half an hour because Miriel wants to get everything as close to accurate as possible. She's drawing on "chart" paper (something of her own invention apparently, it has a lot of vertical and horizontal lines to create a tight grid) and the spell itself also has these grid lines behind the pictures allowing her to check the accuracy of her drawings.

Even after Miriel drops the spell, she and Laurent spend a long time comparing my pictures against everyone else's. There's a lot of conversation of "is this within the normal range of variation?" and a bit of muttering on Miriel's part about how they need more subjects of more age ranges to have a more complete idea of everything.

I'm resigned to the fact that Miriel might not be able to get anything useful out of what information she has available, and of course that's the exact moment that Miriel addresses me.

"I do believe I have the answer to your question!" Miriel says in excitement. Laurent looks remarkably _less_ excited, and is in fact frowning just a bit. Miriel has a number of drawings laid out on her desk, and beckons for me to see. I can see the pictures of the pituitary gland for Lissa, Ricken, Noire, and of course myself. Miriel points to the place where the gland connects to… uh… I'm sure there's a technical term but I don't know it and Nathan didn't write it down. The place where the gland connects to the rest of the brain. That's what Miriel is pointing to. I honestly don't see what's so interesting. "Do you see it?"

"No…?"

"Observe this shape, here." Laurent murmurs.

I squint again, and I think I understand what he means. There's a small little… something extra. "Is that a tumor?"

"Precisely!" Miriel says. "It pinches the connection point and all the blood vessels ever so slightly within the bone cavity in which the gland rests. Now, clearly this is not severe or you would already be suffering from other issues, and you have grown perfectly well up to your current point, however this could be indicative that growth hormones are not fully making their way out of the gland to the rest of your body, or at least at a slower rate than would be expected."

"Huh." I say, staring at the picture. I was half expecting to get the answer of "nope, you're just small, tough luck", so hearing that there is actually something potentially wrong is… interesting.

"This is fascinating!" Miriel continues eagerly. "Just imagine the potential medical applications of this spell, and of our newfound knowledge of the brain! Perhaps we can identify some root cause of dwarfism, or aid with various mental issues! Just think of what we can do once we have a way to look at hormone levels and the strength of electric signals!"

I'm glad she's enjoying herself, but… "So what can we do? Is there a way to fix me?"

"If indeed you wish us to remove it," Laurent says gently, "then yes, removing the tumor should not be an issue. My mother is no stranger to precision spells, and there is precedent for such delicate internal work involving the manifestation of extremely small wind blades within a person's body."

It's hard to contain my excitement. I never thought I would be _happy_ there was something wrong with me, but it proves I'm not crazy! My feeling that something was wrong proved true! Not that it doesn't make me a bit nervous that there is something weird with my body, but at least at the moment I'm relieved to know I was right.

And to think that without Nathan's basic knowledge of growth defects and this specific part of the brain, we would have never discovered this (potential) issue.

"I knew I wasn't crazy." I whisper with a smile on my face. I can imagine it now. Nathan wakes up in a year, and I'm different. I'm cooler, hotter, and maybe even taller than him! Ooh, that would be fun. Role-reversal! Maybe I can piggyback _him_ around! I'll have to thank him for actually writing down this knowledge even though he clearly thought I was done growing. He may not have believed me, but he gave me the tools to check anyways.

Also, I'm not surprised that Miriel can make a spell to do brain surgery if she needs to. She literally recreated a spell that disassembles someone's body and reconstructs it in a different form. Removing a tumor is going to be child's play for her.

 _This_ is why I want to learn more about magic, by the way. Look at all the awesome stuff Miriel can do with it! Looking at brains, changing bodies, (probably) removing tumors, and all the other things she's already done that I haven't asked about yet! I know Miriel already has an assistant in Laurent, but maybe I should see if she's willing to teach me a thing or two.

"In addition, your brain also shows higher concentrations of this oddly-coloured tissue that shows itself more prevalently in youth." Miriel adds as an afterthought, pointing to certain parts of my brain that were oddly brown-tinted. "If there was doubt about you not being fully developed."

So ends the exciting saga of dissecting rat brains and using magic to look at human brains, and it's back to boring boat stuff.

###

We aim for Severa first, despite her location being further away than Yarne's. The council decided this was safer, as information will travel faster over the mainland than from the island that Severa's chapter takes place on, so we'll rescue Yarne second because his location is on the mainland. It's a safety thing apparently, though it sounds ridiculous to me.

We also have to wear disguises, which is stupid.

"But I already look Plegian!" I complain. "My coat literally has Grima eyes on it!"

"It's too recognizable." Father explains. "You might be mistaken for myself."

"I'm a _girl_! No one's going to mistake me for you!"

"Well…"

"What? Are you saying I look like a boy?" I ask and cross my arms.

"Not to me, but perhaps to others." Father placates me. I recognize the diplomatic phrasing for what it is though.

"It's because I'm flat, isn't it?" I huff. "I'm too androgynous?"

Father blinks in shock for a second, and his hands freeze in place above the map he's looking over. "I-I never said that."

"What is it then? Clearly you have a reason to think I might be mistaken for a boy." I say, frowning at him.

Father tries to nudge us away from the topic of my appearance. "The disguise has plenty of pockets Morgan, I made sure both of ours had that, you can fit all your things in there just fine. Is it really such an issue?"

"It's not." I say, still frowning. "But that doesn't mean I like it, and I still want to know why you think I look like a boy."

I'm aware I'm being a bit petulant, but my own father just said I don't look like a girl! I was already aware of that, Nathan told me once upon a time that he wasn't sure if I was male or female upon seeing me until I explicitly called myself a girl, but that doesn't mean I'm not annoyed at Father for pointing it out and then trying to dodge around the question. If you're going to point it out, stick with it! Don't instantly backtrack when I so much as frown! Also, he _knew_ I might get annoyed and yet he pointed it out anyways!

I'm not mad, just annoyed. Also I've been cooped up on this boat for two months and I'm a bit irritable.

"Like I said," Father says after a hesitant moment. " _I_ don't think you look like a boy…"

"You're dodging the question Father."

He looks lost as to how to respond. "I… the coat is not very flattering, even if it is a very nice coat."

Yeah, he thinks I'm flat. This is a lot less funny than whan Nathan teased me about it. "There, was that so hard?"

Father stares at me in mute surprise. I sigh tiredly and drop my arms from their folded position. I know I'm being petty. It's so easy to be petty. I should stop.

"So disguises, yes, sure. Pockets are great." I say. "I presume you have an overland route planned?"

"Yes!" Father all but jumps at the chance to change the subject. "We're going to spread out in small groups to maximize the area we cover as we sweep the island. The point on the map Nathan specified is already not the smallest area to cover, and seeing as Noire was rescued in a location quite far from where her prologue would be-"

"Paralogue." I interrupt.

"Pardon?"

"It's called a paralogue, not a prologue."

"Er, well, Noire was recovered quite far from her _paralogue_ , and so we can't guarantee that Severa will be anywhere near the location of her own paralogue."

"Of course." I say, studying the route. Father has little figurines for everyone. They're very simple wood figures, but you can tell who is why by some little modification. Chrom is the one with a cape, Sully has red armor and a horse, Father has a black coat and white hair, and I'm the one with the same coat and black hair. "Father."

"I think I see a problem."

"What's that?"

"It might be a good idea to have one of the future kids in each group, if possible." I say. Right now, all of us are clustered into a group of our own (which is larger than the other groups I might add. Most groups are of three, not five). "There's no guarantee Severa will recognize Shepherds aside from her parents, but she'll definitely recognize the future kids. Well, not me, but the others for sure."

"I see." Father frowns. He takes a moment to reorganize, but comes up with an obvious problem. "There aren't enough future kids to go around."

"Well." I pluck Cordelia out of her group with Vaike and Nah, and switch her with Sumia who has no future kids in her group. "Cordelia can work for this group, and…" I don't want to reveal the father, so I make a few irrelevant changes as well as putting Frederick into a group without a kid because Frederick is the rather. I then point to Frederick's group, but not him specifically. "That group is fine too, but these three groups don't have anyone."

Father gives me a critical look. "You know who everyone's parents are."

"Well yeah." I say. "I was around when Nathan was figuring it all out."

"I see." Father says. "And you support Nathan's decision to not tell anyone?"

"Well, it would be rude of me to undermine him while he isn't here to defend his decision." I say. "And all the other kids were onboard with that decision, even if they don't necessarily like it, so there's no reason for me to go against it."

Truth be told, I'm not picky one way or another about the decision not to tell the Shepherds about which kids they have. I can see the logic in saying something, and I understand the logic in not. I probably would have revealed everything, but I'm not so against Nathan's decision that I'm going to go against it, and Kjelle, Nah, and Noire all seemed to agree that they don't want to risk messing up their parents lives by saying too much, so hey, I'll go along with it.

It is a bit odd that Nathan made the decision though. One of the few times he takes charge, and it's about something that arguably isn't his to decide. Then again, maybe his more detached look at things was necessary because it's not his parents he's talking about.

"Do you know who your mother is?" Father asks.

"Yes." I say. "I'm not telling you who."

Father frowns. "Perhaps Nathan has been a bad influence on you after all."

I roll my eyes. "Just because _you_ don't like the decision doesn't mean he's a bad influence."

Father flexes his fingers and narrows his eyes. I once thought this meant irritation, but over the course of observing him I know it actually means he's thinking on how to phrase something. "Morgan, I speak for most of the Shepherds who have suddenly become parents, even Nowi, in that none of us feel like we know what we're doing, and it would be useful to have the help of the other parent to… provide for and support all of you."

"Father, in case you haven't noticed, us future "kids" are technically adults. You all don't need to "provide for" us, and while support would be nice it's not nearly as drastic as you seem to think it is. We've handled ourselves just fine for quite a while. Maybe I'm interested in learning more tactics, and maybe I don't have my life quite figured out, but I _will_ live my life with or without you. I'd like you to be a part of it of course, but I'm past the point that I need you to provide for me." I say. "If you tried to say that to Kjelle, she'd probably curse you out of the room for insinuating she can't handle herself. Nah would probably scoff and say _she's_ the one taking care of Nowi. You're all overthinking this. We are adults. We're not asking you to coddle us, we just want you around."

"I see." Father says. He still doesn't look comfortable, but he does seem a bit more calm… or is that resignation? "Can you at least tell me if I'm on the right track…?"

"The point of not telling you who my mother is is to not influence your behaviour. It's to _protect_ you from that exact line of thinking." I say. "I'm not revealing anything."

"But I don't want to choose the wrong person." Father says in frustration.

"You're not obliged to abandon what you want for my sake. There is no "wrong" person."

Father doesn't seem to like that answer. "But you are my daughter."

"I appreciate your concern, but seriously Father, I'm your daughter, not a tyrant." I huff. "I don't dictate your life."

I do appreciate the fact that he cares so much. He hasn't known me for very long, but I am important enough to him that he'd legitimately consider throwing away whatever else he may have wanted just for my sake. That, however, is a completely idiotic thought process.

"We're getting distracted." I say, giving Father an easy out to this topic. "We need people for those three last groups."

"Yes, of course." Father sighs. "Do you have an idea as to who might be particularly recognizable among the Shepherds?"

"Well…" I frown. There was _someone_ special in Nathan's notes for recruitment, wasn't there? "Oh, Chrom! In the game, he can recruit the future kids too, along with their respective main parent."

"Main parent?"

"There's this whole parenthood mechanic." I say. "I'll explain it later. Point is, we can put Chrom in one of those groups. I think I should be able to go in one too. I have Nathan's notes, and that includes all the information he has on support conversations and extra details. I guess it would be a bit intrusive, but if I can memorize that information I should be able to show that I know who Severa is and have her believe me."

"So one more?" Father frowns. "There's no other obvious choice, is there?"

"Not really." I agree. "I guess I could share Nathan's note with you or something, but I don't think Severa would want her secrets spread around."

"Well… if Cordelia is her mother, would it make sense that Severa is familiar with Sumia to some extent?" Father suggests.

"Maybe?" I say. "I mean, worst case scenario Severa doesn't believe Sumia, and Sumia comes and finds one of the other groups. If Severa is on foot, it's not like she'll get far before Sumia brings someone back."

"True." Father agrees. "So Sumia then?"

"Sumia." I affirm.

We spend a few minutes reorganizing the groups before we decide on something that works. Each group needs to be capable, so that's the main balancing act. We fine-tune the groups until Chrom arrives, needing to talk with Father about something.

###

"I'm pretty sure it was "you don't piss into the wind"." Kjelle tries to correct.

"I thought it was skip." Noire mumbles.

"Fairly sure it was spit." I say, frowning. I heard it so many times, more than the others did, so you'd think I'd know.

It's almost embarrassing that I can't remember the lyrics to this song. Nathan sang this one so often I could sing it along with him. There were only a few he'd consistently sing; he tended to cycle though the others so I'd only hear an individual song every month or so, but this one was sung almost daily.

"Why are we even singing one of his stupid songs?" Nah complains.

"I'm singing one of his songs because I happen to enjoy it." I huff.

"Alright everyone!" Chrom calls out. I slip off the crate I was sitting on and try to look properly at attention, like I don't already know what's going to be said. "We're going to go over the plan one last time and announce your groups!"

I listen to Chrom explain that plan that Father thought up and I helped with. I'm with Kellam and Anna. Dad wanted me with him, but I pointed out that we don't need two mages to a squad and he reluctantly agreed. The sole group of four (because we have twenty-eight people and three doesn't divide into twenty eight evenly) ends up being Donnel and Ricken's group, probably with the logic that they're young so they should have an additional person for safety.

Ricken is not amused. Nowi is overjoyed to have him in her group though, and she guilts him with "You don't want to be in a group with me?" to get him to stop complaining.

Devious… or maybe Nowi was seriously worried. It's hard to tell with her.

Maribelle gives Robin a stink-eye when she hears that _she_ is going to be the one trying to keep Ricken, Donnel, and Nowi in line, but really there was no other choice. We wanted a healer in the group and Lissa would probably join in the goofing off rather than stop it, Libra isn't very stern, and Anna isn't exactly what you'd call responsible, so really Maribelle was the only choice.

With our routes planned and as much food and drink as we can support in our backpacks, the Shepherds split and begin searching.

We're all in disguises, and we have orders to pretend to be mercenaries and only purchase supplies if we absolutely have to. Each group has enough supplies for about a week, which should be more than enough to sweep their area and return. If we don't find Severa by then, we'll move to a different part of the island by boat and repeat the process.

I'm anticipating a whole lot of _nothing_ on this trip, but I pray to Naga I'm wrong.

###

I'm not wrong… mostly. Nothing happens due to outside sources, but Anna makes things interesting.

"Come on hun, just a few silver and this could be yours!" Anna says, holding up a nice hat with a pegasus feather sticking out the side. She's one of the few people who isn't disguised simply on the basis that Annas are so universal that attempting to disguise her would be more suspicious than just letting her obviously be an Anna. "Pegasus feathers are rare don't you know! You'll be the most fashionable person in town!"

"I don't got that sort of money, ya greedy imp." The man scoffs. "If you ain't talkin' copper, I ain't buyin'."

"Well that's unfortunate because these are _so_ hard to come by…" Anna says, and pouts her lower lip. She's also flagrantly lying. Pegasus feathers aren't common on the market, but even a regular Ylissian farmer could get their hands on one without too much trouble. Morgan would bet money Anna got that feather by picking it up off the ground after Sumia or Cordelia's pegasus shed it. Anna probably didn't pay a single cent, and now she's trying to gouge for it.

"That doesn't mean I can afford it." The man says, and crosses arms.

"Can't you though?" Anna asks, still with her pouting, innocent look on her face. "You have a such a nice chest- I mean vest, and your boots are clearly of decent quality."

"Well that is true." The man says, and 'casually' smooths back his hair. Anna's manipulation is so painfully obvious, but it's actually working. I'm not sure if I'm surprised, disappointed, or amused.

"And those couldn't have been cheap, right?" Anna asks. "I'm sure those boots cost a pretty silver."

"You're not wrong." The man agrees. "Boots from the finest cobbler on Castaway Island."

Castaway Island, incidentally, is the name of this island. It was also called "the Island of Mutiny" at some point in the past. Doesn't roll off the tongue as well. I can see why they changed it.

"I can see that." Anna flatters. "So naturally I assumed you were someone who could appreciate fine clothing."

"I am!"

"So then you should know I really can't lower the price for this hat, hun." Anna says. "Do you see any pegasi around here?"

"I suppose I don't." The man says. "But four silver is too high! One silver."

"Come on now, I need enough money to take care of myself!" Anna says, and pats her stomach ("coincidentally" drawing attention to her large hips). "I need to eat! And keeping up this look isn't cheap! Surely three gold isn't too high?"

"One and a half." The man says, very obviously dragging his eyes away from her waist. "Food don't cost that much."

"It does when you have a figure to maintain and don't want your hair to be greasy!" Anna replies. "Two, and that's as low as I'll go."

The man mulls over the price, eyeing the pristine pegasus feather sticking out of the hat. He also runs his eyes over Anna again. "Two, huh?"

"Two silver."

"And all it gets me is a hat?"

"And my happiness." Anna offers with a winning smile. "So come on, you know you want it."

"One and seventy?"

"Two hun. No lower."

The man mulls it over, sighs, and digs into his pocket for his wallet. Anna grins, and turns her head to wink at me knowingly. I guess she somehow knew I would be watching.

"Two silver." The man says, almost grudgingly. "For your and your figure."

"Thank you hun!" Anna all but sings. She snatches up the silver and hands him the hat. "A real pleasure doing business with you!"

"I hope so." The man sighs. I can see instant regret on his face as he inspects the hat. It _is_ a nice hat, but I think he realized just how much he paid for something he might not ever use, because let's be honest, the hat is not a working hat, and this man isn't nearly as important as he pretended to be and won't be going to any parties where he'd actually need something slightly ostentatious.

Anna walks away triumphantly with her two silver, and we quickly leave town. Once we're a fair distance away, Anna speaks.

"So what did you think dear?" Anna says to me, still smiling. "Impressed? I knew you were watching closely."

"Impressed is one word for it." I say. "You swindled him pretty hard."

"I didn't swindle anyone!" Anna says, putting a hand to her chest. "It's called haggling and persuasion!"

"Uh-huh, _persuasion_." I smirk. "And by that you mean seduction, right?"

"Well…" Anna smiles. "Not quite, but you're close."

"You were using flirtation and your body to influence him, that sounds like seduction to me."

Anna waves it off. "Technicalities, but yes, I was doing that. It's quite effective with certain types of men!"

"Yeah, I saw that."

"Did you now? Are you interested?" Anna teases.

"Yes." I say outright. "I am."

"Oh." Anna blinks. I don't think that's the answer she was expecting. "Feeling rebellious already, are we?"

"Rebellious implies Father is in charge of me." I say. "But that's not it. I'm not going to pass up a chance to learn something useful. Just another tool for the toolbox, right?"

Anna smiles, and it looks much more genuine than before. "A girl after my own heart! I'll be happy to teach you, but you should know I don't do anything for free!"

"How much would you be willing to bet I can sell things you can't because I'm just so small and cute?" I ask. "Because let's face it, you're recognizable as an Anna. Me though? I'm just a cute, innocent little girl trying to make some money to support herself."

"So you'll help me sell things?" Anna asks. "You're asking me to put a lot of faith in you here."

"It will only go wrong if you're not a good teacher." I shoot back. "Besides, I can always pay you if I just suck at selling things."

Anna immediately sticks out a hand. "Deal."

"Pleasure doing business." I quip, and shake her hand.

From behind both of us, Kellam sighs deeply and shakes his head.

###

"There are a few approaches." Anna says. "But generally, if you want to minimize the nasty accusations thrown your way, you want to tailor how bold you are to the customer."

"What are the other ways?"

'Well, you could just be absolutely aggressive." Anna says. "Don't take no for an answer, basically throw yourself at them. It can work, but you tend to get in trouble with authorities, and particularly stubborn noblemen tend to take issue with you."

"You speak from experience." I say. It's not a question. I can tell from the small grimace that passed her face that she absolutely has tried doing that before.

"I do." Anna admits. "I had to start somewhere, but I don't recommend it for long-term profits."

"Noted."

"Tailoring your approach, on the other hand, is a bit of an art." Anna says. "You have to do some deduction, and it's intrinsically tied with what you're trying to sell. No amount of winking is going to allow you to sell an iron spade for three and a half gold."

What an oddly specific example. "Did you try to do that too?"

"No." Anna says. "One of my sisters did."

"Wow." I snort.

"It almost worked, believe it or not." Anna says. "But anyhow, you need to tailor your approach. Culture, economic status, probable religion, and anything else you can deduce needs to be taken into account. If you're going to wink at a married man, you want to be fairly sure it will work and you won't have someone yelling at you and driving away other customers."

I nod and write in my notebook. If I'm going to learn something, even "persuasion", I'm going to take it seriously. A skill is a skill, and I'll be damned if I don't learn to use it properly.

"It's more than just being nice." Anna explains. "Though obviously that's a part of it, but you have to be confident and assertive! You won't change anyone's mind if you're shy and simpering."

"No problem there." I say. "You might not have met me before, but I guarantee you confidence isn't an issue."

"Good to hear." Anna says. "Now like I said, persuasion is a bit of an art, so don't take these guidelines as gospel…"

The long and short of it is that young men are easy prey, though you might need a different approach depending on social status.

"Noblemen and aristocrats are a varied bunch." Anna says. "Sometimes you need to play more to their ego, and sometimes you need to play more to their hormones. Sometimes both. The latter tend to be especially easy pickings."

Yeah, I can imagine why. Horny, entitled, and with money to spare? A perfect target.

"You have to be cautious with Ylissians. If they're sufficiently religious, they're likely to react negatively to obvious persuasion." Anna warns. "The whole "pure, chaste, and supportive" expectation tends to get in the way."

Anna has a whole bunch of other little notes that I scribble down. We'll see how applicable these actually are. I'll probably make my own notes and modifications over time. I'm more curious about specific actions than patterns and general notes to be honest. I could have figured out the general stuff myself.

I'm not so foolish as to think my playing around with Nathan means I know anything about persuasion either. Persuasion is manipulation, which is very different from what I was doing with Nathan.

So as much as I nod and listen and write things down, I'm actually waiting for Anna to show her skills in action once again, because that's when I'll learn the most.

I don't have to wait too long. Whenever we come across a town Anna tries to make a sale, and that's my chance to figure things out. It's all the little things I'm looking for. When does she wink? How does she hold herself? When does she feign being flattered, annoyed, or happy? She tends to move her hands a lot, so why is that? Are those a part of her act?

I take note of all of these, and within a few sales my notes on her actions have surpassed the length of her actual attempted lecture.

Anna seems to know this, because it's within the second day that she wants me to try and make a sale. "You've been scribbling every little thing down, so you've clearly figured out some things to try." She says. "So man the stall for an hour, alright? There are a few products here you can try and mark up. Ylissian goldroot spice, some more pegasus feathers, and a few nice ceramic plates from Ferox, among other more mundane things. Try to sell one of the markup items for above two while me and Kellam ask around town for Severa, alright?"

"Okay!" I chirp. "But you won't be around to see if I do well or not."

"If you've made a decent profit and haven't been run out of the square, then I'm going to presume you did well in some capacity." Anna chuckles. "Besides, you're a smart kid. I think you can do a fine self-assessment."

"Not worried about me snagging some of the profits for myself?"

Anna rolls her eyes. "The fact that you even pointed that out suggests you won't, and remember, if I don't get enough profit when you're manning the stall, you promised to pay me. Either way, I'm getting my money."

"Point." I say. Huh, that's something I must have picked up from Nathan. I know I wouldn't have said "point" in response to a good point a few months ago.

And so begins my first attempt at… shopkeeping? Not exactly how I expected I would learn to manipulate people, but if it works then I won't complain.

Despite my incredible intelligence and amazingly adorable face my first attempt at a sale, while successful, is also quite clumsy.

"I've got exotic goods!" I shout, imitating what I've seen Anna do before. "Pegasus feathers and spice!"

Anna spent only minimal time on teaching me how to actually run a stall, so the whole "attracting customers" thing isn't my specialty. Still, with enough shouting I do eventually get someone's attention.

The person in question is a man that looks to be in his thirties with no ring on his fingers ("Always check for a ring!" Anna had told me) simple but well-kept clothes, and a calm demeanor. His hands don't look calloused, so I don't think he's a labourer. Not the easiest target, but not impossible. "Hello Miss. You said you had spices, yes?"

"You betcha hun! Ylissian goldroot spice!" I say cheerfully, holding up the pouch containing it. "Straight from the south of Ylisse! It doesn't have the strongest taste at first, but the aftertaste is something else!"

"I'll take your word for it." He says with a small nod. "What's your price?"

"Five silver!"

"Please, Miss, don't joke with me."

"Who says I'm joking?" I chirp. "This is premium stuff hun! You wouldn't have me give away something so valuable for mere copper, would you?"

"But five silver is surely far too much!"

"Then what do you think is a good price?" I ask. I lean on the stall and smirk. "Since you're so smart?"

"One silver."

"A _single_ silver?" I gasp, and put a hand on my chest. "For all the effort I spent to get this here?"

"It cannot have been _that_ expensive."

"Do you know how much the boat trip to get to this island cost?" I ask. "It's not cheap! And I had to travel all the way across Plegia to get here. I need more than a mere one silver to recoup my investment! With one silver I won't even be able to feed myself!" Taking a leaf out of Anna's book, I bring a hand down to my stomach, naturally dragging his eyes down with the motion. It's a lot less effective for me, because I have a bulky generic cloak on and I don't have Anna's large hips.

Hmm… what am I supposed to draw attention to then? What do I have that I can show off? If I think I'm really cute, maybe I should be drawing attention to my face, or maybe a focus on full-body action to emphasize my short height? I'm gonna have to do some testing.

I know Anna said this was an art, but even so there has to be some consistent techniques I can use. Art isn't "do whatever and hope it works". There are still techniques and principles to apply.

"One silver is enough for a month worth of food." The man says with a frown.

"And I still need to travel back home!" I say. "That's costly! I have to make this worth my while!"

"That sounds like a problem for you, not me." He says.

Rude. I mean, he's totally right, but that's still rude. "With an attitude like that, you'll never get any Ylissian goods. This stuff comes from a long way away, so it's going to cost more. That's just business hun."

"But five silver for a pouch of spice?"

"Hun, you're a cutie, but if you're going to haggle do it properly rather than just repeating the price over and over." I say bluntly. "If you're only going to complain at me, go somewhere else."

That gets a scowl out of him. "Not much of a businesswoman, are you?"

"Oh I am, and that's why I'm insisting you not rip me off." I say, tilting my head up. "I'm not taking a price that literally isn't worth my time."

I'm not actually being too unreasonable when I say that. Getting here was extremely time consuming, and who knows how much money Anna missed out on making by being on the boat for two months. Selling this for a mere silver _would_ be a rip-off. A farmer could have probably made a silver and a bit in this amount of time, but he makes his own food and whatnot and a merchant doesn't. Combine that with the fact that Ylissian goldroot spice isn't the cheapest thing (not expensive, but not a pittance) and there's no way she could even _try_ to justify selling this for less than two silver.

If you want foreign stuff, you gotta be willing to pay. That's just how it is.

"Fine." The man says. "One and a half."

"Hun…" I sigh in exaggerated disappointment. It feels weird calling this guy "hun", but that's what Anna did.

"Two."

"Better. How about four seventy?"

"Two and ten."

Oh please. Ten more copper? That's not enough. "And you were doing so well." I tut. "Four fifty."

"Two fifty."

"Hmm…" I say. "Multiple months of travel here, multiple going back, and a mere two fifty for a decently expensive item back home? I'll be honest hun, I'm looking at four as just about the lowest I'll go."

The man glowers a bit. "Well I'm not paying four. Three fifty, and I'm being _generous_ here."

That's more like it. "Well I did say four was _about_ the lowest I'd go, and three fifty is a full half silver under that mark." I muse, letting him stir in irritation for a moment. "Three seventy-five?"

"Not doing."

"Three seventy." I say. "Final offer. I'm not going lower."

"That's still too high!" He complains. I stare at him impassively, unfazed by his borderline anger.

"I said final offer hun. Take it or leave it. I'm sure I can find someone else willing to pay four, maybe five, for good Ylissian spice." I say. And frankly, his attitude doesn't make me inclined to be more flexible. I probably would have settled for somewhere in the _low_ threes, but this guy is annoying me.

"Three fifty five?" He asks, now almost pleadingly.

"Nope."

"Sixty?"

"No chance. Three seventy or nothing."

He agonizes over the price for a moment, and I rub it in by toying with the spice bag right in front of him while looking him dead in the eye.

"Fine." He says after a moment, and all but slams down three silver and seventy copper. "Give me the damn spice."

I toss it to him, and he scrambles to make sure it doesn't fall. I really don't care that he glares murder at me while leaving. Good riddance.

Approximately twenty seconds after that exchange, as I'm going through it in my head, I let out a quiet groan. "I didn't use persuasion at all…"

More accurately, my only attempt to do so failed. I never thought I'd be _un_ happy that someone cared more about my logic and bargaining skills than my appearance.

My other sales have similar results, where I have to fall back to logic and bargaining. I make good money, but fail at what I was trying to achieve.

###

I spend the next several days refining my "persuasion" skills to moderate effect. Few of Anna's techniques work for me, so I have to figure out my own and they work alright, but there's definitely a need for refinement.

I still keep careful notes on Anna's techniques, just in case they'll be useful in the future when I hopefully start to grow and my current techniques no longer work.

"Now don't say anything to your father, alright?" Anna says with a smile and a wink. "I don't want him giving me extra stable duty for corrupting his daughter."

"My lips are sealed." I say.

All the Shepherds return to the boat slowly over the course of the day. My group is one of the first. I suspect Father gave me a particularly easy route to travel. Noire's group is next, followed by Nah's, Kjelle's, and Laurent's.

Then comes all the other Shepherds, including a very annoyed Maribelle. No one has Severa with them… until Sumia's group comes back, because of course the person we were most unsure would be capable of convincing Severa was the person to find Severa. But she must have succeeded because Severa _is_ here.

And oh Naga, she's a bitch. I thought Kjelle was annoying, but Severa does nothing but whine and throw accusations at her mother for things Cordelia has not done. She's even rude to her friends, huffing off their happiness and concern as if obviously they shouldn't have been concerned, and they're so rude for implying she can't take care of herself, and-

You get the point. Maybe this is just first impressions, but _yikes_ , I don't want to be anywhere near her. Problem child alert.

###

"Too much energy input results in an imprecise cut." Miriel narrates out loud, and Laurent scribbles it down. "And too little results in insufficient cutting force."

The current test involves using concentrated wind magic to act as a scalpel, which Miriel is carefully manifesting inside a small wooden box.

I wasn't aware you could manifest combat-based spells on the other side of an object from yourself, so this is very informative for me. I'm taking my own notes as Miriel works, mostly in deciphering the spell circles she uses. The "code" within (as Nathan would put it) is quite interesting.

Miriel opens up the wooden box, removes the ruined wooden… _thing_ within, and replaces it with another before closing the box.

The wooden object in the box is an odd cluster of rounded bulbs, kind of like a cluster of berries, and the objective of each experiment is to precisely remove _one_ bulb without damaging the others. To do this, Miriel needs a precision spell, but she also needs to sustain a scrying spell that lets her see inside the box at the same time.

Morgan was also unaware that you could sustain two spells at the same time, so that's news to her. Miriel did warn that it isn't exactly easy though, and the spells have to be low-power. You can't get away with casting bolganone and thoron at the same time.

"Being able to cast two spells at the same time whatsoever is already quite impressive." Laurent had murmured. "Please though, do not be attempting such a thing without guidance. It can be quite dangerous."

I guess I'll leave the precision surgery to Miriel and the healers then. I'm not good with wind anyways, and I don't even know the basics of scrying. Besides, I probably shouldn't operate on myself.

"I think, perhaps, this is an issue of insufficient focus." Miriel says after a moment of consideration. She opens the box and takes out the wooden object and places it on the table. "There is little reason I should not be able to restrict the cutting point of a blade with greater energy. Allow me to see if this is feasible without scrying."

Miriel takes a moment to concentrate and begins casting the scalpel spell again. A thin blade of wind, the cutting edge thinner than a pencil tip and the whole spell as small as a quarter of an ant (and yes, I'm talking about the insect), appears near the wooden object. It's barely visible, but with immaculate control, Miriel carefully cuts into one of the bulbs on the wooden object and it drops onto the table without an audible sound. Miriel then stops the spell and investigates with a magnifying glass.

"Cut is smooth, within acceptable parameters." Miriel murmurs.

"Then dual casting is the issue?" Laurent clarifies. "You cannot control the wind spell to an acceptable degree while also scrying?"

"Precisely." Miriel says. "Laurent, I shall require your assistance. You shall scry for me while I attempt the spell."

"Understood." The two of them go about setting up another attempt, taking yet another wooden object and putting it in the box.

"The image your scrying shows must be to scale." Miriel reminds him. "Or I shall not be able to create a blade of the appropriate size."

It takes a few attempts before they can get the scrying spell to an acceptable degree of accuracy, and a few more before Miriel can properly control the intensity of the wind blade on the inside of the box, but they _do_ succeed, and once they have done it once they are quite consistent in executing the procedure multiple time.

I still can't help but be a bit nervous. The thought that Miriel will be carefully controlling a blade of wind inside my skull is disconcerting to say the least. At least I don't have to worry about the tools being clean, because it's magic.

It's beyond her how Nathan could consider this sort of stuff _normal_. I don't care that there are dedicated brain surgeons in his world, and not that I don't trust it's true, but the concept is still freaky to me.

Another major part of doing this sort of surgery is the healing magic. Even if the cut is small and shouldn't be hitting anything even mildly important, you don't want an open wound in your brain, so healing magic is required to make quick work of the cut.

I do have a question about that though, and when Maribelle is discussing details with Miriel, Laurent, and myself, I pipe in with a question. "How do we know the healing spell won't just heal the tumor back? Like it or not, that tumor is a part of me."

"Healing spells are odd things." Maribelle says. "They cannot magically recreate body parts to any major extent. Perhaps they could replace a lost fingertip, but anything more than that they will merely heal as the body would, which is to say if you lost a full arm the spell would heal to give you a stub at your shoulder."

"How does that-?"

"Do not interrupt." Maribelle huffs. " _As such_ , unless your body considers that tumor to be normal, as in it will attempt to regrow it, there is no reason the spell should bring it back. From what we are aware, a tumor is a fluke in cell growth, and while a heal spell will not eliminate such a thing from your body as it is not an injury, the spell should also not regrow it unless there is some deeper defect in your… genetic code, I believe the term is?"

"Yeah, that's the term." I affirm. That's reassuring to hear, I think. At least if there is some greater problem with my genetic code, the tumor was relatively benign to begin with and bringing it back won't change anything.

"If the details have been sorted." Miriel says. "I do not see any reason we cannot attempt the operation as soon as we make landfall to find Yarne, when we have a stable surface to work on."

Ah ha. Ha. Okay, this is happening much sooner than I expected. I'm not about to refuse, but I thought I thought we'd be waiting until we got back home. No time like the present I guess?

"Should we not be waiting until we return home, Mother?" Laurent asks.

"We could." Miriel says. "However, we do not require a specialized environment, so this operation is entirely feasible to do on any stable land. The operation could be done right now, seeing as we have not had issues in practice, but waiting for landfall is smart simply for an added layer of safety. I suppose the decision is truely up to Morgan, however, and not us."

Naturally, all eyes turn to me. I debate for a moment if it would be irresponsible to do the operation when we make landfall, and it might be just a bit, but by all means there should be few if any side-effects, and healing magic will make sure I am fit to work within a minute of the operation being finished.

Maybe it's still a bit irresponsible, but honestly I just want this over with by this point. Best to get this done now then stress about it the whole way back on the boat. "We can do it when we make landfall. Let's get it over with."

The others nod in understanding.

###

It only occurs to me as I sit down on the crate with Laurent preparing the scrying spell how lucky I am. I get this for free on the basis of being a test case. Admittedly the resources for this operation are not expensive, there is no need for mana generators or gems, but it does require one mage who is highly skilled with wind magic (Miriel is skilled with all anima magic, so she covers that) another mage who can scry with the image being accurate in terms of proportions, and practiced coordination between those two mages to pull this off, not to mention a healer on hand.

Not to mention the knowledge of a civilization well ahead of ours in technology such that we can know that removing parts of your _brain_ is actually possible to do with a degree of safety. This wouldn't have happened without Miriel and Nathan specifically, so yeah, I'm incredibly lucky.

That will be something to tell Nathan. " _Oh hey, so, using your notes we casually figured out brain surgery. No big deal._ "

I mean, it's not actually that simply. Miriel is going to have to have pinpoint accuracy to avoid nicking a vein or artery or the bone around my pituitary gland, or simply to avoid cutting too deep. Laurent needs to sustain two scrying displays at the same time, one outside view and one cross-section of the stalk of my gland to figure out where the tumor ends and the veins and pathways of the gland starts, and both scrying displays have to be perfectly to scale… so yeah. I say "casually", but this is only as casual as it is because both Miriel and Laurent are scarily competent mages, Miriel is a genius, and we're only removing excess tissue rather than trying to reconnect nerves or something even more insanely precise.

"The scrying spells are complete." Laurent says quietly, staring at the displays in front of him. He and Miriel did a few more rounds of testing with the wood boxes for practice before this because the first few spells of the day that need to be this precise tend to be slightly off, so they wanted to get everything down consistently before doing the actual operation.

" _It's fine._ " I remind myself, consciously staying as still as possible. Not that I could move if I wanted to. I was actually inflicted with a paralysis spell before this started to make sure I wouldn't move an inch and mess things up. " _Miriel literally recreated a spell that can rearrange the cells of someone's body. A precision cut is nothing._ "

Even so, I close my eyes (one of the few parts of my body I _do_ have control of). I don't want to know what's happening. I'm just going to close my eyes and try not to listen to what's happening.

I blot out whatever Miriel and Maribelle are saying, I've already given the go-ahead. The only sign I have that anything is happening is a slight feeling of pressure inside my head, then five seconds later a bit of light-headedness strikes me (which I presume is Miriel initiating a short-range teleport to take the cut-off tumor out of my head), and then four seconds after that I feel the cool sensation of healing magic wash over me.

"It is done." Laurent reports. I open my eyes, and perhaps sensing that I want to see, Laurent turns the display to show me. "The healing magic acted as expected. The tumor was not recreated. If you feel any additional headaches, light-headedness, or other side-effects, please inform us."

Miriel, in the meantime, deactivates the paralysis spell to allow me to move again. I stand up shakily. Not because of the operation itself, but because of how intensely nervous and tense I was, and releasing that tension lets me feel just how much holding in that stress actually tired me out.

I'm not sure if I was _expecting_ to feel anything different, but I don't. I feel exactly the same. I mean, I guess that's for good reason considering the tumor was mostly benign to begin with and the brain doesn't have many "feeling" nerves in it, but still… you think you'd be able to feel a part of you being cut off.

Thankfully, nothing major happens on the first day, so I have plenty of time to recover from my stress. We search for information on the Stonewall Knights and Riders of Dawn, which are the main players in Yarne's paralogue. We're more interested in the Stonewall Knights since Yarne (according to Nathan's notes) is a part of that group.

"Of _course_ he'd join a group like that." Severa scoffs under her breath upon learning this in the briefing. "A bunch of big men with shields. Perfect for him to hide behind."

We all put on our disguises and split up to reach villages to search for information, and I quickly discover that everyone and their mother has something to say about the Stonewall Knights and the Riders of Dawn, and apparently they're a very recent presence in the area.

"Deserters." An old man spits when I talk to him. "Takin' advantage of the king bein' dead to go rogue and start their own gang. Oh they might call 'emselves mercenaries, but I ain't fooled. I know standard issue military armor when I see it."

Interesting. All of the paralogues supposedly appear on the game map after the two year timeskip, so that means these deserters are still successfully operating even after Validar takes over. Assuming, of course, this world follows the game accurately enough. I wonder if the deserters were forgotten about or irrelevant, or if Validar actually had a use for their antics.

Maybe… uh… the chaos of these deserters drives people towards religion for help, in other words towards Grima? I dunno. Nathan is usually the one for guessing motives, not me. All his psychology stuff and general experience makes him way more suited to guessing this stuff than me.

Very few people can actually point us towards either group, mostly because they'd rather _not_ think about the two powerful gangs hanging over their heads and how powerless they are to do anything about it. As long as the gangs aren't here, they don't care where they are otherwise.

Note, however, that I said "very few" and not no one. There is someone willing to help us, though…

"A peculiar group, you are." The man whispers. His heavy cloak obscures most of his body, but his wrinkled, scarred, grinning mouth is visible from underneath the hood. The large eye of Grima on the front of his hood is hard to ignore. This man could not be more obviously grimleal if he tried. "But I can show you the group you wish to find. They've been causing trouble around here in an _unappreciated_ fashion."

If we weren't in disguise, I'd consider jamming a sword in his back as soon as we get our information out of him. Also, I guess this means that the local grimleal don't like these groups either.

You know, assuming all the grimleal in the area are working together, which they aren't necessarily.

"That implies there is appreciated trouble, friend." Chrom says. He masks any distaste he might have masterfully. "But we'll gladly take your help."

The grin on the man's face grows wider, if possible. "Ah, of course, _friend_. It will only take a few hours. The Stonewall Knights are not nearly as far away as the villagers might want to believe."

"You can't get far in heavy armor!" I chirp.

"Precisely…" The man agrees. "Now, gather up your little group, and we'll be on our way."

It doesn't take long using Cordelia and Sumia to round up the other Shepherds, and we can quickly get underway. This part of Plegia is surprisingly un-sandy. The ground is hard-packed and dusty with a dullish yellow-brown color to it with dull grass sprouting up in clumps, and as we are led further out from the town we can see more and more grass and eventually even some patchy areas of trees. I don't see a river anywhere nearby, so either this place gets some rainfall, or the ground filters out the salt from the ocean water as it comes in and that's where these trees are drinking from.

I mean, maybe. I'm not a botanist… ecologist…? Something. There are too many "ists" out there. Most of which I learned from Nathan now that I think of it.

The grimleal also makes a point to lead us into the tree clusters, and instructs the pegasus riders to remain on the ground.

"Do you see that outcrop, on the top of the hill?" The grimleal says, pointing with one arm. The gesture looks grand despite the mundanity of it because of his baggy sleeves trailing behind him and emphasizing the motion.

"I do." Father says, squining up at the rock. The sun is in our eyes, making it a bit hard to see.

"The Stonewall Knights frequently post a sentry there." The grimleal explains in a whisper. Indeed, I can see someone standing on the rock. "In addition, walk with caution. The knights themselves are not stealthy, but their fort is well hidden by trees and bushes just beyond the outcrop."

"Understood." Chrom nods. "Our thanks once more, friend."

"Of course." The grimleal says, and grins again. "May Master Grima have pity on us, and condemn those irritating knights."

Several of the Shepherds tense up at those words, but again Chrom shows himself to have solid emotional control and he simply nods at the words and waves the Shepherds to gather around him as the Grimleal makes his way back to the town.

"Robin?" Chrom whispers.

"Got it. Gaius."

"You want me to take out the sentry, right Boss?"

"No, I want you to find this fort. If it is as well camouflaged as the grimleal claimed, then we need your eyes to spot it." Father says. "Noire."

"Y-Yes?!" Noire squeaks. I don't think any of us expected _her_ to be called upon.

"How close do you have to be to be able to kill that sentry in one shot consistently?"

"I…" Noire squints up at the rock, then sticks a finger in her mouth and holds it up, feeling for wind. "Mmm… if we move out into the open, I can shoot from further away, around this distance, because the wind will be at my back. If we move around the other side I'll need to be closer but we can stay in the forest. We can't stay here. The sun in my eyes makes it too difficult."

"We don't want to risk getting out in the open." Robin says. "So we'll move around the other side. Panne, you're on point. Make sure there's no one around as we move."

"Understood." Panne says.

Gaius breaks off from our group to sneak ahead, and Panne moves to the front. Everyone is on edge as we march forwards. Sully, Stahl, and Frederick take pains to keep their horses quiet, and Cordelia and Sumia's pegasi walk gingerly on the ground, seeming to understand the situation.

Oh, oh, right. That's something Nathan wanted to know. He wasn't sure how intelligent pegasi were. I should find out later. That would be nice to be able to tell him when he gets back.

We make our way around the north side of the outcrop without issue, and get in close enough for Noire to feel she can shoot accurately against the wind. Everyone holds their breath as Noire draws her bow, aiming straight at the sentry at first, then adjusting her aim slightly to the left to account for the wind not being totally head-on.

Noire exhales deeply, makes a final adjustment without taking another breath (so her breathing can't subtly alter the arrow trajectory), and releases her shot.

A second later the sentry falls off the rock, and we don't hear any shouting. The Shepherds collectively release their helds breaths, a few people pat a bashful Noire on the back, and we make our way around the outcrop,

Gaius meets us there, appearing from out behind a tree. "Our "friend" wasn't kidding, I didn't see the fort until I was two feet from it. More of a bunker than a fort really. It's pretty low to the ground for a fort. The walls are only a bit taller than Freddy here on his horse."

"Thank you Gaius, show us the way."

"Yarne better not attack us before recognizing who we are." Severa grumbles.

"H-He wouldn't do that." Noire stammers.

"He's not the most _aware_ person ever." Severa snorts. "He would."

"No, he'll run." Kjelle responds flatly. "This is Yarne we're talking about."

Actually, according to Nathan's notes on the game, Yarne _will_ attack, but let's not shake the boat anymore.

"Remember, don't risk identifying yourself. No battlecries about Ylisse or _anything_." Father warns quietly.. "We don't want to risk one of them escaping and suddenly all of Plegia knows the Shepherds were here."

Gaius wasn't kidding about the fort. It's well-disguised because the knights apparently used boulders to build it and then camouflaged the fact that it was a whole wall with strategically planted bushes. From any one area, it just looks like a few boulders in the middle of the forest which really isn't that unusual.

That also, however, means we can just climb the wall because there are handholds. These are boulders, not smooth, sculpted fortifications. Without the benefit of being hidden, there are objectively inferior walls.

We can hear noise beyond the walls. Faint talking, the sound of animals, and the clank of armor.

We make the decision to climb over the walls, meaning our cavaliers and great knights have to leave their horses behind. Gaius climbs first and peeks over the top of the boulder.

"Four of them." He whispers back to us. "Only a few meters away."

Oh, so if one of us sneezed right now, they'd hear us. Yikes.

Father waves everyone in, and then whispers. "We want multiple people climbing it at once. Frederick, Kellam, Sully, Stahl, Chrom, find a rock to climb over. Sumia, Cordelia, Nowi, Nah, take to the air. Everyone else, climb in behind them. Panne, ignore the fighting, find Yarne."

Everyone else nods, gets into position, and our first wave climbs the walls.

Then all hell breaks loose, because of course it couldn't be that simple.

The frontline hits the ground with weapons drawn as our fliers soar overhead. Javelins from Cordelia and Sumia make quick work of the group Gaius noticed, but that doesn't solve all of our problems. There's still the rest of the group. Even the two dragons now circling overhead doesn't deter them, and a call to arms sounds through the camp.

Ten generals promptly stomp out from a wooden meeting hall, accompanied by five sages and five swordmasters. We might outnumber them, but those are all elite troops.

"Panne." Father barks.

"I heard you before manspawn." The taguel growls. She transforms and darts off to to the side.

"Everyone forward! Noire, Nowi, Nah, take out those sages! Mages, the generals! Everyone else, run interference!" Father barks.

"Kellam, Kjelle, keeps those swordmasters busy!" I add. "Don't let them get to the backline!"

"As she said!" Father says, making sure I'm not brushed off. I'm a bit annoyed that he has to do that, because some of the Shepherds _would_ probably ignore me otherwise, but I can deal with that issue later.

As soon as I start casting, I can see a problem. These are soldiers. Deserters, yes, but soldiers, and elite ones at that. They aren't about to stand there and let us blast them to pieces. The first thing the sages do is whip out ward staves and enchant the generals, and the generals step in front of the sages and block all the incoming attacks.

Well that's a problem. "Father, please tell me we have hammers, or armorslayers."

"Vaike has one."

"Only one?"

"Yes." Father grimaces. "I was planning on our mages doing the work."

Fair enough. That's a problem though.

We pelt the generals with spells anyways, because ward doesn't mean they're immune to magic, but of course sages can also heal so that doesn't do too much.

"Cordelia, Sumia! Attack from the rear!" Father barks. "Target those sages!"

Our pegasus knights soar overhead, only to sharply bank away as arrows snap through the air. More reinforcements pour out of a stairway built into the ground, including a pair of snipers.

"This is getting out of hand." I mutter. I cast an elthunder spell, this time pointing at a sniper… who ducks behind the generals. "Come _on_."

Kjelle and Kellam are fairing slightly better with the swordmasters, especially with some backup from Sully and Stahl. Swords bounce off the armor of the knights, and Sully and Stahl stab anyone who tries to slip by.

Chrom, Lon'qu, Vaike and the like are having issues trying to do _anything_ against the generals. The Shepherds are (smartly) staying out of range of the generals' silver spears (fun fact, they're not actually made of silver despite the name! Silver isn't a great choice for weaponry. Too brittle. The spears just have some silver ornamentation), but that also means they're not making a lot of progress on the "killing things" front.

I switch to elfire, hoping the burst of fire upon impact can maybe sneak some hits towards the sages and snipers. In a surprise to all of us, one of the sages topples to the floor, an arrow sprouting from his forehead. Noire managed to sneak a shot past the generals' shields.

I wish I could say it was a feat of tactics that allowed us to eventually get through the Stonewall Knights, but to be honest it was all Nowi and Nah. We battered down the generals with brute force, because we have dragons. The sages can't outheal dragonfire plus our mages while also dodging the shots Noire manages to sneak past the shields. After two generals fall, Chrom and the other melee fighters can move in and swarm the rest. It's a success for the Shepherds, but a failure for us tacticians. We didn't win by being smart, we threw dragonfire at their faces until they died.

It's a win that doesn't feel like much of a win to me and Father. The other Shepherds don't care as long as we all get out alive, but we tacticians have to hold ourselves to higher standards. We failed in our duties.

Panne drags Yarne up the stairs, out from underground. She's in giant rabbit form, carrying his "human" form by the collar of his armor. Like a cat carrying a kitten… except they're rabbits.

Kjelle has a disapproving frown to share with Yarne, and Severa has some choice words, but Nah and Noire are just happy to see him and don't harp on his cowardice. Laurent deals with the situation stoically, asking after his health, what date he arrived in this world, and all the basic details.

I leave my introduction for another time. I'm busy thinking about how we could have handled that fight differently.

Me and Father discuss tactics all the way back to the boat, and spend the afternoon agonizing over what we could have done, because "smash it with dragons" is not an acceptable answer to all our problems.

###

"I still don't understand why you had to time it as you did, or why you had to go through with it at all." Father says. "I'm not frustrated so much as I am confused, and concerned. It seems like an unnecessary risk."

Father is having a bit of a difficult time wrapping his head around my little operation. I'm surprised he waited until _after_ it happened to bring this up. Maybe my whole "I'm an adult!" speech made him feel like he shouldn't speak up before. "It wasn't as much of a risk as you might think Father. It's not like Miriel was removing something _inside_ my brain, it was on the surface, and we had a healer on hand in case anything went wrong."

"But why did that risk have to be taken?" Father asks. "You said yourself that it was benign, there was no _reason_ to risk trying to remove it in an experimental surgery."

I understand where he's coming from, I really do. What parent wouldn't be worried about their child undergoing such a thing if it weren't absolutely necessary? "That's not true though. There was a reason. I didn't want to feel like there was something _wrong_ with me, like I was missing out on something that _should_ happen. It's not that I couldn't have lived without the operation or anything, I would have eventually accepted my situation, but I wasn't going to pass up the chance to grow! I don't know how to explain it really, but this wasn't something I could _not_ do."

I don't think Father understands all that well, but I can't really blame him. It's more of a feeling of necessity than something I can use logic to justify.

"Besides, Mirel recreated a spell that can literally disassemble and reassemble someone's body. A precision cut is not beyond her. We also had Maribelle there for safety."

"I know." Father sighs. "I know, I know…"

"But it still seems crazy to you."

"Not crazy exactly, just reckless."

"I want my body to be in my control, Father." I say. My reasoning isn't too different from Nathan's I suppose. "I want my body to be _mine_ , I want to be comfortable in my own skin, and I wasn't going to tolerate the feeling that I was missing some part of myself if I didn't have to."

"I suppose I can understand that." Father says after a moment's consideration. "But you couldn't have waited…?"

"I wanted to get it over with." I say sheepishly. "It was a bit nerve-wracking knowing that was in my future, but yeah, I probably could have waited."

"Perhaps I'm letting you be a little too independent, hmm? Scheduling clearly isn't your forte."

I'm slightly offended for a second, but his smile tips me off that he's making a joke. That's rare for Father. He's usually so serious. "Hey, at least I know what I want! By the way, when are you going to find a hot lady to marry? I need _someone_ to thank for my good looks!"

"And here I thought the _parents_ were supposed to tell the _kids_ to get married already." Father sighs dramatically. "What has the world come to?"

"It's come to _me_ , obviously! The world bends to my will! A goddess am I!"

"As if I didn't already have enough to deal with, and now I'm raising a goddess?" Father says. "Raise the bar any higher and I won't be able to manage."

"All the more reason for you to find someone, hmm?" I tease. "You can't possibly deal with me on your own."

Father lightly rolls his eyes. "I'll take that under advisement."

"No pressure though." I chirp. "It's not like I'd be any less chaotic if I had a mother!"

"Well that just removes all incentive to get married, doesn't it?" Father says.

Ahh, I've missed being able to do this, even if this is very tame compared to what I'm used to. I can't exactly make lewd jokes with my own father after all.

###

"Hi! I'm Morgan! I'm objectively the best person ever!" I chirp as my introduction to Yarne. "You're Yarne, right? Do you give rides? Do you like carrots? Do you like board games? I like board games. Board games are great, like me."

Yarne looks like I threatened to cut off his tail, not like I gave an amazing and perfect introduction like I obviously did. Nathan's notes were right, he's a nervous wreck, and that's coming from someone who is themself a nervous wreck so you know it's bad. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm Morgan, I just said that!" I say cheerfully. "And I want to touch your ears, because they look _sooo_ soft! Can I? Can I? Please?"

"No! They're _mine_! I'm an endangered species, not a petting zoo!"

"I know! That's why I asked first rather than just paying you!" I say. "Unless you want money. I'll totally pay for it!"

"No!"

"Aww…" I frown. "Does this mean you won't be my friend?"

"What?"

"My friend! D. You know what those are, right? Most people have at least one."

"Of course I know what friends are!"

"Yaaay! New friend!" I say, and hug the bewildered taguel. "So _now_ I can touch your ears, right?"

"St-Stay back fiend!" Yarne yelps, and tries to push me away.

"Nooo, it's _friend_!" I say, holding on tight. "You forgot the R!"

"You're crazy!"

"Well yeah, obviously!" I frown. "Who isn't?"

"Me!"

"But you're shouting at a friend. Only crazy people shout at friends. That means you're crazy." I say matter-of-factly.

Yarne looks utterly baffled and just a little bit afraid, so I decide to drop my act now that I've had my fun, and I release him from my grip. "So, hi again, I'm Morgan. I'm Robin's future kid. I'm from a different dimension than the rest of you. Amnesiac too. I've heard all about you from my boyfriend. You'll meet him some other time. His story is even weirder than mine."

"Oh." Yarne says. "Are you not actually crazy?"

"I wouldn't go that far." I say with a smile. "I do want to touch your ears, but I won't if you don't want me to."

"Please don't."

Worth a try. "Alright. Can we be friends though? Being friends is fun."

"Will you be less weird if I say yes?"

"Nope! But I'll be more friendly!"

I can see Yarne metally debating if "more friendly" is a good thing, but at some point he decides that saying no is probably more trouble than it's worth. "Sure…"

"Yay! New friend!" I cheer. "Do you want to play a game? I have some board games! How about sparring? We can do that too! I'd love to study your style and techniques!"

"L-Let's just play a game…"

"Ooh, okay! You should try chess! It's so fun! I'll go grab it!"

Predictably, Yarne sucks at chess. He's also nervous the whole time for some reason. Maybe he's afraid of just how smart I am!

That's totally the reason, and not because our introduction involved me being super weird because I thought it was fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think the running joke about Morgan not growing was there just for fun? Well the joke is on you, because Morgan actually is going to grow, and this was planned for a while!
> 
> Also, apparently I'm continuing the trend of having somewhat major plot points happen with very little lead-up. First the talk with Naga, then Nathan getting his body replaced, and now Morgan casually has brain surgery.
> 
> Morgan undergoing a physical change was an idea I got as soon as I knew I would be putting Nathan away for a year. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle it initially. The original idea was to not have Morgan chapters in the middle, and this chapter would have been Nathan waking up a year later and seeing that Morgan was suddenly different. Once I knew I was going to be doing at least one Morgan chapter though, I had to come up with an actual explanation why this happened. I wasn't sure if she was legitimately going to be a late bloomer (perhaps constitutional growth delay) or if I wanted there to be some greater medical reason why she was small (which is what I ended up going with because it felt more fitting that just hand-waving it with "oh she was just late", and because Nathan's basic knowledge of biology played a part in allowing Miriel to even do this operation).
> 
> I'm also realizing Morgan is a lot more tame without Nathan to bounce off of, and she's a bit more of an ass because her immense confidence and forwardness can be rather rude.
> 
> TLDR, I make questionable decisions for the story and characters and try to explain my madness to all of you.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Morgan!

If Nathan asks, I did _not_ fall out of the top bunk four times on our trip back to Ylisse. I can hear the jokes about me rolling into fire right now. Father unintentionally rubs it in every time by being concerned that I got into a fight or fell when the ship lurched.

Fine universe, I swapped with Noire to the bottom bunk! Happy now?

With less irritation, I'll admit that I've been making use of the heating stone Nathan gave me. Not because I'm cold or anything, but because sleeping by myself feels very… lonely. I don't know exactly why the feeling is only starting to strike now, because I've slept without Nathan literally in the same bed as me plenty of times, but for some reason I feel lonely and having the warm stone next to me sort of simulates the heat of another body being there.

I'm pretty sure "sleeping aid" was not something the stone was intended for, but that's what it's doing.

In other news, Nah has been shooting me annoyed looks fairly often lately, and I have no idea why. She's been poking her head in on Miriel's work fairly often too, though she never stays.

There's something afoot here, and I want to know what it is. I can't have my magic lessons (or more specifically: me taking meticulous notes of what Miriel and Laurent are doing) interrupted by a mildly peeved dragon girl.

So I investigate. Every time she shoots me a grumpy look, I call her out on it and ask why. Every time she pokes her head in on Miriel's work, I greet her and ask why she's there rather than just ignoring her like before. When Nah doesn't answer and starts hiding her glares and subtly peeking in on Miriel's work rather than being overt, I have to take other measures.

By other measures, of course, I mean asking the other future kids about it. Why do your own research when you can just get the information from other people? I could be sneaky about it, watching her every move and become super detective Morgan… or I could just ask.

Kjelle's response to my questions is to sigh deeply. "Again? This happens every time… and you already have a boyfriend too."

I don't immediately understand what that means. "She has a crush on me?"

"No. Naga no. That would make things way too simple." Kjelle grumbles. "She likes Laurent, and has for two years at this point, and still hasn't done _anything_ about it but glare at other people she feels are "stealing" her time with him."

Ooh, okay. So her poking her head into the room has nothing to do with Miriel's work at all, it's just that Laurent is there. That's really cute and sort of creepy at the same time. "Does he have any idea?"

"No. Somehow." Kjelle sighs. "He's sharp as a nail, even when it comes to romance, except when it involves himself."

I can't help but grin. I _definitely_ need to keep an eye on the two of them, if just to watch the show. "Thanks for the info."

"Don't go messing with them." Kjelle warns in a tired voice. "It just causes more trouble. We'd know. Inigo has tried."

"Trouble meaning drama, or trouble meaning people's hair catches fire?"

"Drama. Lots of shouting from Nah." Kjelle says. "It's not worth it."

"I'll take your word for it." I say. " _But I'll be the judge of that. I might push a little bit, just to see what happens._ "

###

Kjelle is wrong. It's absolutely worth it. All I had to do was mention off-hand to Laurent that Nah "seemed concerned about something" and watch as he started to notice all the times she spied on us. He would then try to talk to Nah to see if something was wrong, and of course Nah always tried to come up with an excuse for why she was "just passing by" the room, which only made Laurent _more_ worried because he thought she was hiding something, and so he becomes even more aware of the little things she does like shooting glances at him, and confronts her about those, and the whole cycle keeps going.

It's wonderful to watch Nah bumble through talking to Laurent. Her serious, somewhat haughty demeanor completely goes out the window (even though it's clear she's trying really hard to look dignified and calm) and she ends up bumbling and stammering and it's the best entertainment a girl could ask for.

Kjelle gives me the stink eye exactly one day after I give Laurent the nudge, and all I can do is shrug guiltily and smile.

###

"M-Morgan." Noire stutters. "D-Do you want to play a game?"

Those words might sound unimportant, but I'm here to tell you that they are. Noire very rarely talks to me. She doesn't dislike me or anything as far as I'm aware, but we don't talk much. We're not similar. I think I have too much energy for her. That's what makes this important, because I have no idea why she's suggesting this at all.

Not that I'm about to refuse or anything. "Sure! What do you want to play?" I ask, and lean forward. "Chess? I have a copy. Did Nathan ever teach you chess? I also have barrels, or checkers, or-"

"Ch-Chess works."

"Okay!" I dive into my pack and pull out the small chess set. "Do you want white or black? White is better, because the first move grants you an advantage, so maybe you should take that because it will even the playing field a bit, though if the skill difference is big enough it won't matter, so maybe I should take a handicap, or-"

"I'll take white." She whispers. "Let's play normally."

I quickly set up my side as Noire hesitantly fumbles the white pieces into place. I think it must have been a while since she played because she gets the position of king and queen wrong.

I play through the first few moves quickly. I've found a set of opening moves I happen to like, so against an easy opponent like Noire I can just throw out those moves without any consideration for what she's doing.

"So." Noire says quietly after the fifth turn. "A-Are you and Yarne getting along well?"

"Yarne is fun! He plays with me sometimes, but I don't think we have all that much in common." I say. "I want to touch his ears, they look so soft, but he won't let me."

"I… right." Noire says. Her expression shows surprise though.

"Did I say something weird?"

She starts to shake her head, then hesitates and says. "Not for you."

"So it would be weird for someone else?"

"Slightly." Noire admits. "It's not all the time I hear someone talking about how much they want to touch someone they don't know that well."

"When you put it that way, I guess it is weird." I admit. I'm so used to voicing almost anything that comes to my mind with Nathan, I guess it didn't occur to me that it would be odd to say it otherwise. Not everyone is a close friend and I can say whatever I want in front of them and have it be normal.

"I-I don't want to sound mean though." Noire says hastily. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, it's fine. It's probably good that you did." I admit. It does make me miss Nathan though. There's currently no one in my life that I can run my mouth in front of as much as I want.

You know, because I could probably walk up to Nathan and say something completely random and lewd like "hey, Laurernt has a nice butt" and Nathan would just nod and smile and poke me on the nose and it would be completely unremarkable, but around anyone else that comment will raise eyebrows.

"Sorry." Noire mumbles. "I was trying to help you _not_ be lonely."

"Lonely? I'm not lonely." I say. "I'm doing things all the time! I have no time to be lonely!"

Noire's silence says everything. She obviously doesn't believe me, but is too polite to say so. She's also right, and I know she's right, we both know the reason I'm always doing things is precisely to stave off loneliness, but I don't want to think about it.

Also, my loneliness is a bit petty. I'm lonely because I'm used to constant attention almost every waking moment of my life, and I mean that quite literally. It was rare that me and Nathan would be apart for more than an hour. Even those three months or so when I was out with the Shepherds and Nathan was back in Ylisstol were mostly spent thinking about what I would do when I was back in Ylisstol. I guess that's the problem with having only one close friend and nothing else that holds your attention aside from that friend.

Now that I think of it, the only reason I got into analyzing games was because it made my time with Nathan more fun. It's only recently I got a hobby (studying magic) that I actually did for _myself_ and which he wasn't foundational to. So much of my life was- is- based around him. It's not that I suddenly don't want him, of course I want him, but just maybe I should have more than one pillar in my life.

I suppose I also have Father now, so not just one pillar.

"Morgan?"

Ah, I've been spacing out while thinking. "Thanks Noire."

"Oh, uh, you're welcome?"

"You're a good friend, you know that?" And I mean that. She's proven herself to be very observant. She noticed I was lonely despite the fact I was actively trying to hide it from even myself, and she was quick to offer comfort to Nathan after he learned he was stuck in this world.

"Thank you?" Noire says, looking very confused.

"I'm having too many deep thoughts." I decide. "What's something frivolous we can talk about?"

"I don't know." Noire says honestly. "I'm used to talking about inventory and camp tasks. It's been a long time since I had something unimportant to talk about."

Right. Ruined future. "Then what do girls usually talk about? I don't know girl things."

"I don't know either." Noire admits sheepishly. "S-Severa used to talk about fashion when we had just started running away, and she'd complain that other girls only wanted to talk about boys. I mostly spent time with Brady when I was growing up, so I wouldn't know from personal experience."

I suppose boys is a topic I could do, but I feel that would be a bit lopsided considering I'm in a relationship and Noire probably isn't even considering it at the moment. I know nothing about fashion, so that's also a no. "I don't think either of those are going to work, unless we want a one-sided ramble about Nathan from me."

"Yeah…"

"So how about this: have you picked up any new hobbies since you got back? I've started to learn magic. Practical magic I mean, not just combat magic. I'm studying what Miriel does, at least until we get back to Ylisstol and I can learn properly."

"I-I haven't been doing much." Noire says. "I've been helping Mother with her work, and also helping the Shepherds with repairing things, but not much else. I really don't know what to do even though I have so much freedom now."

"I feel the same in some sense." I say. "And how are things going with your mother? Also, what is it that she does exactly?"

"It's going… well enough." Noire says hesitantly, and there is clearly more to it than she's letting on. "Mother likes making new curses. It's not a job though, it's a hobby. So I shouldn't say anything more."

"Ah, yeah, don't reveal anything you shouldn't." I say.

"What about your father?"

"It's great! He plays with me!" I say cheerfully. "I don't think he's used to having a daughter yet though."

"Mmm." Noire nods slightly. "Mother is the same."

"Father really wants to know who my mother is." I add. "I haven't told him, of course, but…"

"Mother wants to know as well." Noire says. "Though I think it's because she wants me to leave her alone sometimes. It's not that she dislikes me or anything, but I think she's used to being alone and having me around all the time is beginning to wear on her."

"It's the opposite for me." I say. "Though I can't speak for Father, at least for me it feels like we don't get to spend much time together. Only an hour a day, and that's if he's _not_ busy."

"Have you been able to talk with your mother?" Noire asks. "I-I can't really talk with Father, it would be weird, but it wouldn't be strange for you to talk to anyone because you're… you."

I think that's a compliment. She's basically saying what Nathan did before, that I'm good at talking to people. "I haven't, but that's a good idea!"

Putting that on my list of things to do for sure. Learning to dance is not something I considered, but if it lets me spend time with my mother, then I definitely will.

Noire is predictably terrible at chess, but I'm thankful for the conversation she provides at least.

With the addition of Noire and eventually Mother to my schedule (Mother is delighted to have someone to teach) the trip back to Ylisse isn't nearly as lonely.

###

I have the choice, when we get back to Ylisse, to see how Nathan's transformation is progressing… and I decline. As anxious as I am to know he's alright, I also don't want to see his mostly-deconstructed body. He's probably just a cluster of organs hanging in a pod by this point. That's not something I need to see.

Additionally, once we get back to Ylisse, there is a decision I need to make. While the Shepherds are needed in peace time to a certain extent, it is also true that certain people have more important duties than running around the country. Maribelle, for example, has to busy herself with rebuilding Themis after the damage it took in the war, and Chrom is busy with paper and political work now that our little rescue mission is done. While many of the Shepherds are still going around dealing with missions, some of the members that hold important positions have other duties.

I'm bringing this up because Father has one of those important positions. His official title is "High Deliverer" (whatever that means) but in practice he's high-ranking military personnel. At the moment he's in charge of figuring out how we're going to deal with Valm. His work is theoretical, technically, because Emmeryn doesn't want to imply that we're going to war, but it's fairly clear by Father and Chrom's conversations that Ylisse (or at least the Shepherds) is going to join sooner or later, and while we were away Emmeryn already struck a deal with Rosanne to provide them a large amount of high-quality metal "for construction purposes" (and totally not weapons and armor, nope) in exchange for "exotic goods" like Rosannite poetry and other artsy things along with a variety of ingredients and foods from Rosanne. Emmeryn also clearly gave more value than she got back. It's a thinly veiled donation of military supplies in the form of high-quality metal in exchange for a pittance of literature and a few shipments of food just so Ylisse can claim it was an economic deal and not a military one.

As much as Emmeryn is a pacifist, she's thankfully not an idiot. She knows the Valm war will involve Ylisse at some point and isn't going to stand-by.

Got off topic. So, anyhow, I have a decision. Father is one of those people that is going to have to stick around Ylisstol, and while I'm technically a Shepherd, because I'm also a future kid no one will complain if I choose to stay here too. I'm not really _needed_ in the main force. One Shepherd more or less doesn't make a whole lot of difference against generic Risen forces, and honestly they don't even need a skilled tactician (and Gregor is surprisingly competent in that regard anyways, probably due to leading groups of mercenaries on occasion and his extensive career, not to mention Cordelia is no push-over either) with them to deal with Risen.

Basically, this is my way of saying I'm staying in Ylisstol. I don't just lay around being lazy though, I do things, and by "do things" I mean I dive head-long into court life.

That might seem like a sudden shift in direction for me, and to an extent it is, but I sort of had this in mind for a while. I didn't arbitrarily learn persuasion from Anna. I was always vaguely aware that politics was open to me due to my position (or more accurately due to Father's position), and after that small interaction at the royal wedding where I messed with the noble boy and learned I might have enough smarts to throw my weight around, well, I had court life in mind as a possibility. It helps that I might be able to make a significant difference in Ylisse by dealing with all the higher-ups.

I should admit, however, that there is a steep learning curve to dealing with court life. The worst part for me is just learning how the court functions in the first place. I can get some information from Father, but he's wary about letting me get too involved with politics, mostly because he recognizes that a lot of the people within it are manipulative and don't necessarily have the best of intentions.

Still, I do get the basics from him: the court is a collection of nobles and royals and/or their representatives that advise the Exalt, help run the country, and perform other administrative duties. There are some parts of court that anyone can have access to, and some that require you to have a certain position or level of authority.

That's a woefully insufficient explanation but if it's all I'm going to get then I'll work with it and just get the info I need out of other people. I don't mind ignoring Father's wishes to do my own thing.

Thankfully, there are a few easy entry points I can take advantage of. Mostly because of Father's position, admittedly, but I'll take advantage of whatever I can.

See, some people in court are known for their sociability, and by that I mean they throw parties. Now, they're not technically called parties, they're always referred to as "social events", but it's obvious it's just an excuse for whosoever is hosting them to show off their wealth and make connections.

Conveniently, I have a high enough social position that I can get into one of these. Granted, I have no idea what the dress code is, I'm completely unescorted, and I'm wearing my cloak so I'll be walking around Ylissian higher-ups with blatantly grimleal clothes. It's not that I don't have other outfits, but my cloak is genuinely the most fancy thing I own, even if it's my all-purpose outfit. I made sure to sew up holes and whatnot beforehand using the thread Nathan bought for me… how long ago was that?

Getting into a social event is rather easy, though I'll admit I wasn't particularly discerning about which one I went for. I just need _some_ entry point. Maybe that's why the event I ended up at was rather… well you'll see.

The person hosting this event is Duke Crius. He's a minor duke that controls a relatively small bit of land on the north west of the country, bordering Ferox and the lake in between all three countries in Archanea. Technically that means he broders Plegia too, but the lake is between his land and Plegia. His dukedom is also the newest dukedom in the country, though it's still a few hundred years old and consists of land won from Ferox in a prior war. Duke Crius is the fourth duke of that territory, so again, in the grand scheme of things it's a new territory.

I don't know enough to be aware of if that's a defining factor as to why the door guard only raises an eyebrow when I tell him who I am, and then lets me inside. No questions, nothing. Just a raise of an eyebrow and a quick opening of the door.

The room I walk into is crowded. The lighting is dim, not quite making up for the setting sun outside, and it lends the room a dingy look. There are lots of tables with lots of drinks and some small snacks, but it's clear that this gathering is all about drinking.

Bleh, okay. At least that means it should be easy to listen in on people if they're too drunk to pay attention to what they're saying.

There's a wide mix of people here, just judging by the clothes. Some people are clearly aristocrats, some people look distinctly like merchants and even have some goods with them (and are clearly trying to make deals), and some people are obviously dressed above their station with clothes that might look nice from a distance, but if you get close you can see the cheap cloth and lack of detail.

I doubt anyone here is too important, but that's fine. They're more likely to be impressed by me, which means it will be easier to get information out of them.

I made sure not to come here at the start of the event when everyone would be mingling and seeing who's here. I want to be unnoticed.

There are too many people here for me to go totally unnoticed of course. A few people raise their eyebrows or whisper to others about me, but only one person approaches me.

"Lady Morgan!" The man says. He's middle-aged with grey-streaked, dark orange hair, he's tall and admittedly rather good-looking for someone his age. He's dressed ostentatiously with deep, rich, and dark burgundies, crimsons, and other off-red colours. Surprisingly, there are no stains on his clothes, and his wine glass is filled with something that doesn't look like any alcohol I've seen before. I'm fairly sure this is Duke Crius. "I'm surprised to have the pleasure of playing host to your second outing, not that I'm complaining!"

Interesting. He actually knows who I am. I didn't assume I was well known. Also, he apparently knows this is only my second outing into courtly events? Has he been keeping track of me? "Oh, you know me?"

"I know _of_ you." He says. "It's hard not to. Your father is quite the pariah. A Plegian, potentially grimleal at that, who has become High Deliverer and is close to the prince? The court is naturally intrigued; and to hear that he has a _daughter_ , and one that seems surprisingly close to him in age… well that's a curiosity, isn't it? It doesn't help that your father seems to avoid the rest of the court like we're a plague. Never coming to any event he doesn't have to, and only staying among the Shepherds and military personnel. Always talking business. It's like he doesn't want anything to do with us."

That's because Father _doesn't_ want anything to do with them. Crius is entirely correct. I'm not going to admit that though. "Either way then, thank you for not minding my intrusion. I didn't exactly get an invitation."

"As I said before, I'm more than happy to play host to such a curious young lady as yourself." He chuckles. "As this is your first _proper_ outing so to speak, and the guard made no mention of an escort, perhaps you'd permit me to act in that capacity tonight? A young lady should not be without proper introduction and fanfare to the court, yes?"

I recognize the power play for what it is. This is an easy way for him to assert some sort of authority over me and play at being in good graces with Father. That said, I get someone who will teach me about court life, which is exactly what I'm looking for. I don't want to potentially put Father in an awkward position though, so… "Well _I'd_ certainly appreciate it, but do be careful what you offer. Father might not take kindly if you flaunt such a thing." I lower my voice a bit. "He's not exactly on board with me taking part in court life. Protective. You understand."

"Ahh…" Crius nods. "You wish to be discreet."

"At first." I nod. "Until I have some results to show."

"I understand perfectly." Crius says. "Many thanks for the warning."

"You are still willing to help me?"

"But of course. I do this out of kindness."

"Not self-interest?" I ask, arching an eyebrow in obvious disbelief. "I am no fool. While I may not have experienced courtly life yet, I'm well aware of the games that are played here."

"Blunt, aren't we?" Crius murmurs. "Well then, I shall be as well. I am not solely doing this out of kindness, though that _is_ a factor. I am interested in the possibility you represent to increase my influence. Playing patron to the daughter of a politically significant newcomer to Ylisse's political landscape is a potentially highly-rewarding move for me to make. You must be aware I am the least of the dukes in Ylisse. You represent a possible boost in my standing that is sorely needed."

"You're seen as pitiful, aren't you?" I ask, dropping my facade of nicety. "Because you're new and small, relatively speaking."

"Yes." Crius says equally bluntly. "And you are a potential solution."

"I see." I say. "Well, let's make a more explicit deal then, now that your cards are on the table. You show me the ropes of court and help me learn how to push my agenda, and I'll make an active effort to further your agenda as well, providing there is nothing too abhorrent in it of course. In, say, six months time when I am more settled, we renegotiate."

"That's a hard bargain. You're asking me to put a lot of trust in you."

"Yes." I say honestly. "But as you said, I'm potentially significant. Besides, let's be honest, in the last five minutes I've proven myself less air-headed than most of the young women you usually talk to, haven't I?"

"Yes." Crius admits.

"So you have at least some inkling of my intelligence." I assert. "So, let me put the deal in a new light. I am a potential ally, and one you likely wouldn't have even had a _chance_ to access if I hadn't come to you before anyone else. The other dukes would be all over me if I gave them the chance. So yes, I'm asking for you to put a lot of faith in me, but the potential return on investment is significant."

This is part of why I chose to try and get into this particular event. I knew I could flex the only thing I have to offer at the moment: my potential. If I don't have a reputation or assets to abuse, I can at least solicit an investment with the promise of future payout, using my (hopefully) obvious intelligence to make that payout seem more lucrative than it would be otherwise.

Also, Crius hasn't instantly rubbed me the wrong way unlike most other nobles I came across at the royal wedding. That's why I'm willing to be so upfront in what I'm offering, otherwise I absolutely would pull out some trickery here and been less forthcoming.

Crius sighs and holds out a hand. "You're too shrewd for a young lady. I better not regret this."

"Don't give me a reason to hate you, and you won't." I say, and shake his hand. I try not to let my grin get too self-satisfied or predatory. "Now then, let's talk…"

###

My suggestion from Crius for the night is very simple: talk. No fancy deception, no trying to put words in the right ears or get information out of someone, just make myself known, and specifically have my intelligence be known.

"Be smart." He says. "Sarcastic, witty, sharp. Don't antagonize people, but don't be afraid to take a light jab at them either. The more interesting you are, the more people will want your attention, and that's something you can leverage. Make sure your story stays consistent, whatever you're going to say. People might talk about you behind your back after this, so you don't want to cast suspicion on yourself, especially if you don't want anything negative to get back to your father."

To be frank, most of the night is mundane. It's interesting insofar as learning who everyone is and watching as some of them try to impress me (as if I needed more people stroking my ego, even if it's insincere) when they hear who I am, but the specifics of each interaction don't bear repeating.

I get the feeling that I'm actually one of the most politically significant people here, beside Crius of course. There are merchants and some rich store owners here and all that, but me being the High Deliverer's daughter is somewhat of a big deal apparently.

I'm totally going to abuse that in the future.

Unfortunately for me everyone at this event isn't exactly the youngest, so I don't have the best testing ground for seeing how much I can mess with young men, because that was actually part of my plan.

Again, I didn't learn from Anna for nothing.

Something else Crius mentioned was that I might consider getting a proper outfit and not wearing my cloak; and… yeah, that's probably a good idea.

Here's the thing though: I don't know fashion. I don't think I'd do a terrible job or anything, but I should ask someone with expertise just in case.

Lucky for me, the Shepherds aren't gone for very long, so they're back in time for me to find the person I'm looking for. It's not one of the future kids in case that's what you were thinking. It's actually Lissa.

I know Lissa doesn't deal much with court, but she's at least on top of fashion to a certain extent, so I can rely on her not to lead me wrong, and she's excited enough to have Father's kid asking her for something that she doesn't question _why_ I want nice dress.

Maybe there's an assumption that I'm a young girl so of course I want a nice dress. Either way, I won't complain.

"I'm basically an aunt!" Lissa says cheerfully as she leads me down the street by the hand. "I've always wanted to be an aunt!"

"Wouldn't that require Father to be your brother…?"

"Details, details!" Lissa sings. "Don't ruin this for me! Pleaaase!"

I don't spoil the surprise that she'll get to be an actual aunt soon enough. Baby Lucina is born at some point in the two year intermission between wars after all. "Well, I guess I can be your niece for a day then, Auntie."

Lissa's smile is radiant, and she practically skips from shop to shop.

In the interests of not burning all my money I was going to settle for two outfits… but Lissa offered to pay for more, and I'm not about to argue with free stuff.

"But it looks good on you!" Lissa insists. "It's so cute!"

"I guess…" I say. I'm not going to argue that this fluffy, light-purple dress doesn't look nice, but it feels slightly oversized on me. I feel like I'm showing off the dress rather than the dress showing off me, and that's not quite what I'm going for. "I look like a doll."

"Dolls are pretty!"

She's not wrong, but… "I think it's a bit fluffy for me to be honest. Too many layers."

"But it swishes when you walk!" Lissa says excitedly. "And it makes you look like a fairytale princess!"

"I'm afraid I'm not a princess like yourself." I say. "Thanks but no thanks, it's not a look I can ever see myself using."

Lissa is disappointed, but I don't want to get something I won't use, even if it's free. That would just be a waste of Lissa's money.

"If you like it so much you should try it on." I suggest. "It would probably look good on you."

"I already have one like that, or two, or five." Lissa admits.

"Spending spree?" I tease.

"No, I just get a _lot_ of gifts on my birthday." Lissa says. "Perks of being a princess. When I'm not getting marriage proposals as "presents" at least."

"That actually happens?" I ask.

"Yeah…" Lissa sighs. "I'm a royal though. That's just how it is. Chrom got them too before he announced his marriage, and Emm still gets them on the regular."

"Everyone wants to marry the Exalt, huh?" I say as I struggle out of this obnoxiously fluffy dress.

"Yeah." Lissa says. "It would be a major boost to their standing you know? It would also tie their family into the royal line, which is a huge boon to everyone. So even if someone isn't trying to court her themselves, they're usually trying to nudge, or shove, a male family member in her direction."

"She has no interest?"

"Not…" Lissa frowns, gesturing with her hands as she tries to find a way to explain it. "She's not _opposed_ to finding someone, but she has other priorities."

"Like running the country."

"Yeah." Lissa nods. "Though honestly, I'm worried that she'll _never_ find someone at this rate. It's not that she can't live without someone, but… I don't want her to be lonely. Chrom is going to be busy with Maribelle, I'll find someone eventually, and as much as I'm sure we'll still visit and talk with her and all that, it's not the same."

"Won't you still live in the castle?" I ask.

"Probably not me. Usually the wife goes to live with the husband." Lissa says. "And Maribelle is a special case because she's the heir to the Themis duchy, so it's likely Chrom will go live there when Maribelle inherits that."

"Hmm…" I hum. "Well, she'll have Phila, right?"

"Phila is… well…" Lissa sighs again. "Phila is a friend, but she's busy with her own job. She's not like Frederick where he can be around all the time."

"Ah." I nod. "I get it."

"Yeah…" Lissa says.

"So, on a more fun note, _do_ you have someone in mind for yourself?" I ask. I already know who that's going to be, but that doesn't facilitate conversation. "From what Nathan told me about you before, I would have expected Maribelle for _you_ , not your brother."

"It's not the first time I've been told that." Lissa admits, with a minor blush crossing her face. "I don't know why everyone thinks I was into Maribelle! We're just good friends, I swear!"

I think that very reaction has something to do with it. The blush and smile really isn't helping her case. "So _do_ you have someone then."

"That's for me to know." Lissa huffs, and tilts her nose up just a bit. "Maybe I want it to be a secret."

"Lissa, I already know who all the future kids' parents are, remember?"

"Oh." Lissa's shoulders droop. "Meanie."

"Just to make sure it's the same in the future as this world…" I say. "Who are you thinking?"

"Vaike."

"Ah, good."

"So that means we're going to work out then!" Lissa instantly brightens up.

Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Ah, whatever. "Just don't forget to still put in effort. You don't want something going wrong because you take the outcome for granted."

"I know, I know." Lissa huffs. "Okay, so if that dress isn't quite good enough, maybe this one…"

"That one has even _more_ layers."

"I know! Isn't it great?"

I shake my head slightly as Lissa helps me into it. Our tastes are very different.

###

"-and that is why putting extra taxes on the poor is a stupid idea." I say cheerfully, looking down my nose at the fuming lesser noble. "And really, if you want that argument to be even _vaguely_ plausible, you might want to put some effort into actually making good use of the taxes you do get rather than wasting it another redecoration of your mansion. If you actually did something _useful_ with that money, then you might be able to justify more taxes."

The nobleman, old and slightly overweight, but with well-kept hair and clothes, was actually trying to impress me at the start of our conversation. He had nothing but compliments for my outfit and curiosity for my occupation… for about two minutes, and then after he decided he'd payed enough attention to me to justify my needing to listen to him, he started talking about about the barony he owns, and how he has this really nice mansion in the capital, and bla bla bla, and the peasants aren't putting in enough effort and are being lazy, because how hard could _farming_ be anyways? You just shove seeds in the ground and water them and throw food at animals. Also-

You get the point. He's an ass. I listened politely until he was mostly done talking, and then I politely deconstructed literally everything he said.

"But the peasants-"

"-are hard-working and you're a privileged ass." I reply bluntly. "You try working long hours of physically exhausting labour that's at the mercy of weather on a shoestring budget with insufficient nutrition every single day of your life. See how "easy" it is then."

"Anyone can farm." The man huffs. "Exhausting or no, it is simple work."

"Simple doesn't mean easy, and even if it did, easy doesn't mean effortless." I say. "Your arguments are incorrect, and even if they were correct, they're irrelevant to your conclusions. Farming being simple or easy does not justify higher taxes."

As much as I feel incredibly smug rubbing this guy's bad logic in his face, It's surprising at the same time that he's so blatant about it. Maybe his point of view isn't unusual. That's a disappointing thought.

With that out of the way, I wave my fingers at him in a dismissive goodbye and I find someone else to talk to.

"Making more enemies, are we?" Crius sighs when I saunter back over to him. "I'm starting to think you're more trouble than you're worth."

"I'm only making enemies of people that aren't worth our time." I say. "If you want to get in good graces with the current royal family, making allies with corrupt nobles isn't in your best interests anyways. Emmeryn and Chrom and whatnot are very moral individuals."

"I am aware." Crius says. "I simply don't wish to make enemies, I did not say I wished to work with Baron Vulk."

I shrug unapologetically. "He deserved it."

Crius shakes his head. "You must be more cautious than that Lady Morgan. There are many spiteful individuals in the court. You can't mock so many people and expect to get away with it."

" _Oh, but I will_." I think smugly. I don't want to undermine my patron though, so instead I say, "I'll keep it in mind."

The rest of the event (some birthday celebration of a lesser noble that several important people are nonetheless attending) is mostly uneventful. I think the dress I'm wearing is doing its job in attracting attention, but it's hard to tell.

For all I know people are interested in me because of my emerging reputation, or maybe it's still just my status, or it could indeed be my appearance. How are you supposed to tell without asking someone though? I can't ask without conveying that I'm unsure, and my entire persona revolves around being super confident, so I can't do that.

This is why I need another ally in the know. I need _someone_ that can tell me if I'm doing the right thing in the appearance department. Lissa was a lot of help, but it's clear she was going mostly by our personal tastes rather than fashion trends or anything.

So, I should preface this next part with something Crius told me: "Two of the most dangerous locations in any building are the lavatories and the hallways right outside them. If someone has a grudge against you, it is here they will wait away from prying eyes if they wish some form of revenge."

That's why, when I'm exiting the lavatory, I'm not terribly surprised to see the lesser noble I annoyed earlier standing on the opposite wall.

The dress I'm wearing isn't bulky enough for me to hide a sword, but I do have a long knife strapped to my leg, and it's possible to use magic without a tome (though it is a bit more magic-intensive). This is why I said I could get away with annoying people. I have absolutely no fear of this man. If it comes to a fight, _he's_ the one walking away with something broken, not me.

"Ah, Baron Vulk." I say in a sickly sweet, sarcastic voice. "To what do I owe the _honor_?"

"You know full well what that is." The baron growls. "Don't play dumb with me girl. You're overstepping your bounds."

"I have no idea what you could be referring to." I say with an exaggerated gasp and a hand on my chest in mock surprise. "Why, we only had a polite conversation!"

"Don't _mock_ me!" The baron snaps, and I can't resist letting a smirk cross my lips. It's so easy to get under a noble's skin. They're so full of themselves. He steps menacingly in my direction, and I stifle a laugh. His footwork is all wrong, I don't see a weapon on him, and he doesn't have backup of any sort. Has he forgotten that I was part of the Shepherds? It's not exactly a secret. I mentioned it to him earlier. "You can't get away with insulting a man of station, no matter who your father may be."

"My father won't be happy with you~!" I warn in singsong, not bothering to hide how absolutely unafraid I am.

"I'm doing your father a favor by teaching you some manners."

"By all means." I say, putting my hands on my hips and leaning forward, smiling in his angry face. "Enlighten me."

I think he was expecting me to be at least a little intimidated, because he seems significantly less confident in the next step he takes in my direction. Maybe he was hoping I'd cower and apologize and that's all that would happen, but now that I'm actually standing up to him he feels compelled to take further action. I wait for him to actually reach out in my direction before I fight back. Don't want to attack someone over mere intimidation after all. I want to be sure he's serious.

He has no weapon, so I don't bother drawing mine. As soon as his arm is close enough I grab it with my opposite hand, step to the side, then quickly turn around while jamming my other hand into his elbow.

The sickening crack and the howl of pain tells me my move was effective. I doubt I broke a bone, but I might have dislocated his elbow or a few fingers. I release Vulk and step back. No need to take this further.

"You might want to see a healer about that." I say cheerfully at the man as he shakes in place, staring at his arm that doesn't seem to be bending properly anymore. "It should be a simple fix. You can afford it with all that tax money you're wasting, right?"

"You bitch…"

"Maybe try not being a terrible person next time, and this won't happen, hmm?" I say. "Until next time, Baron!"

I can't say I feel even a little bit of remorse for what I did. He's the one who cornered and tried to intimidate me, and then decided to try and get physical. If anything, I feel satisfied.

I wonder if this is one of those situations where Nathan would give me a disapproving look if he were here. Did I overstep, or did I not? He's got more of an eye for moral judgement than I do.

Crius only shakes his head in exasperation when I return and Vulk goes running out of the building. I give him the sweetest, most insincere smile I can manage, and set about actually making myself useful to make up for the trouble.

Crius is trying to gather support for when he appeals to Emmeryn about "the importance of diverse weaponry and tactics in Ylissian forces", which is to say that since his dukedom is the only one to have a dedicated group of axe users (he calls them "axemasters", which seem analogous to the "warrior" and "berserker" classes from Nathan's game), encouraging weapon diversity in the army means his dukedom's expertise with the weapon relative to the rest of Ylisse will be valuable, meaning that he can possibly make a profit of selling this knowledge or training other people's troops, but it also increases his own status for being an expert in a rare weapon type.

It's a smart play, if an obviously self-benefitting one. It _is_ good for Ylisse to know how to use axes though, if only to better understand how to fight against them, so Crius' suggestion isn't without merit.

By Crius' own admittance, the only reason he has axe expertise in the first place is because so many of the people living in his territory have heavy Feroxi ancestry. His land used to belong to Ferox less than a few centuries ago, and they're experts with the axe. His great-grandfather decided, smartly, that rather than trying to force new recruits to use Ylissian weapons if they didn't want to, he'd encourage and learn from Feroxi techniques to cultivate a unique military niche in Ylisse… which is exactly what Crius is trying to take advantage of right now. Aside from some great knights, there are _no_ dedicated axe regiments in the Ylissian army and also very few archers (which, coincidentally, is also something Feroxi tend to prefer).

This is also something I specifically can help argue. I'm a tactician, and I know full well the benefits of axes and the consideration that has to be taken when using them. I'm well-equipped to argue that, if someone likes Crius or not, there's a valid reason to back his proposal.

I just have to swallow my distaste for some of these people and focus on my arguments. That's honestly more difficult than making the arguments themselves.

###

"Morgan." Father says firmly.

I cross my arms. "Father."

"I told you-"

"I don't care." I cut him off. What he told me is irrelevant. I'm an adult.

"You broke someone's arm Morgan."

" _Dislocated_ , and he deserved it. Nothing magic couldn't fix anyhow."

"You got attacked."

"By a single, unfit, untrained, old guy with no weapon." I retort. "I had a dagger, and I can use magic. I didn't need it though. Would you rather I stab him next time?"

"I'd rather there not be a next time."

"There will be." I say. "Both me attending events, and getting attacked."

Father sighs deeply. "You're getting involved in something far too dangerous Morgan."

"Father, four months ago we were on the far side of Plegia fighting elite soldiers, and you didn't complain then." I point out.

"That's because the other Shepherds were around." Father says in frustration. "You're not alone. But when you're going to events and dabbling in court politics, you have no one watching your back at all."

"Not true." I say. "I have Crius."

"Crius?"

"Duke Crius. He's the duke of a northern duchy, the smallest in Ylisse. He's mentoring me." I say. "Not a terrible guy actually. Much better than most of the other nobles I've run into."

"How did you even get a duke on your side?" Father says and rubs his temples.

"I made a deal. I help him push his agenda, as long as I can't see anything abhorrent in it, and he shows me the ropes. There were a few more details, but that's the gist." I say, preening myself in pride. "He saw my potential and my intelligence, and I was very persuasive."

"I'm sure…" Father mutters. He lets out a deep sigh.

"How did you even hear about this anyways?" I ask. "I made a point not to tell you, because I knew you'd be annoyed."

"And I resent that." Father says sharply. "I'm annoyed you ignored me, but as you've established before you are an adult and can make your own choices. That's understandable. Not telling me you were going to do it anyways is insulting though. You don't trust me enough to think I'll respect your decisions apparently. I could have, would have, watched your back."

"Maybe." I say. I'm well aware of how haughty my tone is. "But maybe not. There's a chance you would have just complained and kept telling me not to do it. By going behind your back, I could actually get some connections and results before you found out and started trying to berate me."

"You really did expect me to stand in your way."

"I expected you to be unhelpful." I assert. "Not "stand in my way" exactly."

One of Father's hands tightens into a fist out of frustration. "Have I really left such a poor impression on you?"

Those words strike a bit of doubt in me with those words. Am I being a brat? Did I make a mistake in judgement? I didn't tell Father my plans because I didn't want him to nag, but was that petty of me? Did I actually think he'd stop me if I went ahead anyways? "No, I just wanted to do my own thing without worrying about nagging."

You know, now that I say it out loud, " _I went behind your back and did something potentially dangerous because I didn't want you to voice disapproval._ " isn't exactly a convincing argument.

"Sorry." I say after a moment. "In hindsight that's petty."

Father lets out a long, tired sigh. "Just a little bit. I worry about what you don't tell me Morgan."

"Sorry."

"Just keep me in the know next time, alright? I want to help you, even if it's for something I don't approve of."

"Okay."

There's a small silence as we let that topic sit in the air for a moment, and then Father pushes it aside to say "We got a letter from Virion."

"Oh?" I perk up. "News about the war?"

"In part." Father says. "But that's not the interesting part. Here."

He hands the letter to me, and I read through it with eager eyes. "Owain, Cynthia, Inigo, Bardy… they're all coming here? Virion found them so quickly!"

"They weren't exactly hard to find." Father says, flipping over the letter in my hand so I actually can see that there's a back side. "The future children are rather… distinct."

"You can say that again." I agree. I run through the list of future kids in my mind before I realize something. "Huh, I guess Gerome is staying. That makes enough sense."

"Why so?"

"Cherche's kid, remember?"

"Ah, of course." Father says. Of course, neither of us know who Cherche is exactly. It's weird to know that she's a future Shepherd, but that we've never met her. "So yes, they'll be here in less than a month's time. This message was sent on ahead."

I can't help but bounce in my seat in excitement, just a bit. "Ooh, finally."

"Eager, hmm?"

"Yep." I just realized Inigo is going to be a problem potentially. Olivia is his mother, but I'm his sister. That means he's either going to have to reveal himself to Mother and try and be natural with me, or reveal to Father and not deal with Mother, which is equally problematic because by Nathan's account he has much more in common with Mother than Father.

This wouldn't be a problem if Father had any inclination that he was interested in Olivia, but from what I'm aware father and Olivia aren't particularly close. I don't want to try and push them together considering they're not involved at all, but at the same time it's going to make things really inconvenient.

Whatever, we'll deal with the Inigo hurdle when it happens. I also have to remember the gift I got him when he inevitably fails at getting a date. I can't wait to see the expression on his face…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would hesitate to call this chapter serious exactly, or super plot-important. It mostly exists for future context and so you know what Morgan is up to in the year downtime. I could have just glossed over everything until the other future kids arrived, but it didn't feel right.
> 
> I'm realizing comedy is a lot more difficult for me to write without Nathan. I took for granted how much he facilitates Morgan. It doesn't help that this Morgan is a lot different than goofy, smash-tome-on-head, game Morgan.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something something Morgan. This is the last timeskip chapter.

The Shepherds apparently consider the other future kids arriving a big deal, because they have a whole feast organized the day of their arrival.

You can tell a bunch of the Shepherds are nervous, even though they try to hide it. Some of them are about to find out that they're parents. Can you blame them for being on edge?

My main concern is Inigo. He hasn't been informed of our whole "stick to one parent" thing, so he might let the cat out of the bag that Mother and Father are… well… Mother and Father.

Don't get me wrong, I want Mother and Father together, but I'm worried Inigo might throw a wrench in that plan unintentionally by making them aware of them being married in the future too soon. That's the whole reason we're sticking to one parent in the first place.

I'm also keeping in mind that multiple people have said I'd probably get along with Owain and maybe Cynthia, so I'm eager to see if that's true. I haven't been able to do a proper bit with someone for a while now.

Today is probably going to be fun times for me, and less so for other people.

I can instantly tell which kid is which when they walk through the door. Their appearances are so distinctive that even just using the physical descriptions from Nathan I can tell who's who.

For about a minute, no one moves. The four new kids stare at the entirety of the Shepherds, and the Shepherds stare back. Seeing as I'm supposed to be the confident one (according to Nathan at least), I take it upon myself to break the weird staring contest going on between everyone.

"Hey Inigo!" I call, startling several people. "Do you know who I am?"

Hilariously, Brady, Cynthia, and Owain's immediate response is to turn and glare at Inigo. That's what you get for being a womanizer I suppose. Inigo, now with all eyes on him, takes a tentative step forward, which turns into a confident step as he visibly brushes aside any nervousness to put on a strong facade.. "I'm afraid I don't quite remember. Perhaps the lovely lady could jog my memory?"

Severa pipes up to do what she does best: complain. "Hitting on your own sister Inigo? That's low even for you."

"My own…?" Inigo blinks. "Morgan?"

"Hi!"

"You're- wow." Inigo coughs. "That's… you survived?"

"Can't speak for your world, I'm probably from a different place." I say.

"Ah, right." Inigo says. "The Morgan I knew disappeared when she was five."

Oh. Well that explains why none of the other future kids recognized my name or knew who I was. If I vanished when I was five, Inigo was probably only seven or eight. That's at least ten years from his current age, probably more, and "my sister vanished and is probably dead" isn't exactly something a seven year old is going to want to talk about with his friends.

"Well hi! I'm Morgan! I'm objectively the best person ever!" I say cheerfully. I then turn to Father, who is watching this exchange in mute shock. "So, by the way, you have a Son."

Father buries his face in his hands and groans, and Inigo smiles sheepishly. "Hi Father." Then, before I think to stop him, he turns towards Olivia and inclines his head. "Mother."

"Inigo!" Severa groans. "We're supposed to only tell one parent!"

"You could have mentioned that beforehand!"

"We thought Virion would mention it!"

"He did!" Inigo says, then pauses as everyone glares at him again. "I forgot, okay?"

"Well that simplifies things for me!" I chirp, and spin to look at Mother. "Hi Mom!"

"Oh, um, hello?" She responds with a wild blush and obvious nervousness. "Oh dear…"

"You also have a wife in the future Father!" I say to Father.

Father groans again.

"Friend Inigo! That is most unfair! Only you are to be allowed to spend time with both your parents? Unfair! Scandal!" Owain cries. "Thine selfishness is obvious, and your crime most heinous!"

"It was a mistake!" Inigo protests.

"I think not! T'was a calculated move to 'accidentally' talk to both of your parents!" Owain accuses. "All the other heroes must silently endure the trial of only being able to speak to one parent, but _you_ took the villainous route and revealed both! Selfish scoundrel!"

"Yeah!" Cynthia agrees. "That wasn't very heroic of you Inigo!"

My brother throws his hands up in the air in wordless frustration.

"I don't know what y'all are talking about. I can talk to ma and pa jus' fine." Brady says.

"Your parents are already married Brady!" Cynthia huffs.

"Don't talk about your sister!" I quickly add. "Special circumstance."

"Yeah yeah, I know her plan." Brady grumbles. "I won't talk."

As expected, Owain and Cynthia choose to reveal their mothers rather than fathers. From what Nathan told me, the mothers determine who the kid is, and so naturally the kid tends to have a defined dynamic with the mother more than the father. The only exceptions are me and Lucina.

With me and Inigo being siblings and our parentage fully revealed, Olivia and Robin of course feel obliged to sit together to talk with Inigo, but the awkwardness is palpable. They spend as much time awkwardly side-eyeing each other as they do actually paying attention to Inigo.

So, naturally, I make it my job to be a good sister and give Inigo a hard time so he doesn't feel left out. "So, Inigo, how many girls did you land a date with in Chon'sin? Did you get any?"

" _That's_ the first question you're going to ask me?" Inigo sighs. "Of course that's what the others would tell you about me… and only one, by the way. The language barrier was a bit problematic, or else I might have gotten more."

"I'm sure that's the reason." I say. My grin could politely be described as "shit-eating", and I know that full well. "Not that most people see a relationship as something important rather than something frivolous."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Inigo starts, then suddenly realizes the implications of what he said and backpedals. "I mean, of course, that I'm intensely interested in each and every woman I pursue! I don't toy with hearts!"

"You're just open-minded, are you?" I ask in amusement.

"Exactly."

"Mmm, sure." I say. "I'll bet you're "intensely interested" like a hummingbird is to a flower. It lasts all of a minute before you've had your fill and move on to the next one, never quite full."

"Why must you speak poetically just to mock me?" Inigo grumbles. "You didn't have this much attitude when you were younger."

"I was seven. I wasn't even a teenager. We all know attitude is a phenomenon that manifests spontaneously when you hit puberty." I say cheerfully. "Too bad for you I've had time to sharpen that attitude into a slim, well-kept dagger."

"What ever happened to my sweet, fun-loving younger sister?" Inigo sighs dramatically, and puts an arm around my shoulder. "The world has corrupted you!"

"I mean, it's only had a year and a bit to do so. I don't have a memory beyond that."

Inigo pauses. "Pardon?"

"I'm an amnesiac like Father." I say. "A year ago I woke up in a forest with no memory, and spent half a year wandering around Ferox with Nathan and Noire, and Kjelle, and eventually Nah once we hit northern Ylisse."

"I-I see, but you remember me…?" Inigo asks hopefully.

"No." I admit regretfully. "I remember a little bit about Father. The rest of my family I learned about through others."

"Ah." Inigo deflates. "I suppose it was too much to hope for. I'm just happy you- some version of you- is still alive."

"Me too. Being alive is great." I quip. More seriously, I add, "It's nice to be able to see my family all together, even if I don't have memories of half of you."

"Incidentally… who's Nathan? Is he from a different future?"

"Nope. Outworlder." I say. "He's fun. You'll meet him in half a year or so."

Best to keep the details on Nathan brief for now, or else I'd go on and on.

"Half a year?"

"He's having his body rebuilt."

Inigo blinks rapidly. "What?"

"I'll explain some other time."

Inigo is immensely confused, but doesn't question further.

Olivia finally musters up the courage to speak. When she says Inigo's name, it looks like she's testing how it sounds coming out of her mouth. "I-Inigo, I'm so glad see you! I wasn't sure if I was going to be a mother at all! I-I mean I hoped but I wasn't sure and… was I a good mother?"

"I think so, but I was only just starting to become a person when you left." Inigo admits. "Father went missing in action early into Grima's rise, Morgan vanished from her room only a few weeks later, and a few months beyond that you were killed. You were all gone by the time I turned eight. From what I remember you were great though."

That's obviously not what Mother was hoping to hear, nor Father for that matter. It's interesting to me though. What Inigo said is different from my own memory. When I remember Father showing me his collection of miniatures I was certainly older than five, and there was one time he took me to a theater I think I was around twelve or so.

You know, it's just occurring to me now that maybe the reason I remember being taken to a theater was because Mother was performing. That would make sense. It's not like Father or I have a particular love of theater otherwise… unless he's hiding a secret obsession with plays that I don't know about.

"How long have you been here? In our world I mean." Father asks.

"Only half a year." Inigo says. "The others were here much longer from I heard. Alas, I've had much less time to enjoy the wonderful sights of this beautiful world."

"And by "wonderful sights", you mean hot women, right?" I tease.

"Of course… not."

"Real convincing there bro. Totally convincing me that you haven't been looking at butts this whole time."

"I think I liked you better when you didn't talk." Inigo grumbles.

I raise an eyebrow. "You mean when I was _five_? I see, you like women in their place, not to mention dumb and quiet."

Inigo flushes. "That's not what I meant."

"I dunno~" I say, and grin in his face. "Sounds like it to me."

"You're terrible."

"So I've been told multiple times." I say. "You know, for someone who's supposedly a womanizer, you're very easy to fluster."

"That proves I'm not a womanizer then!"

"No, it just means you suck at it."

"D-Do you dance?" Mother cuts in, perhaps realizing I'm not about to stop teasing Inigo anytime soon.

"I- well- I try." Inigo says bashfully. "Not many people appreciate male dancers though."

"C-Could I see!?"

"I couldn't possibly!" Inigo protests desperately. "I'd rather see you dance!"

"M-Me?! Oh, that would be so embarrassing… I really should just watch you!"

"B-But that's equally embarrassing!"

"Fine, both of you dance at the same time, and me and Father will watch." I say.

"That's even worse!" They both shout at the same time.

Why is everyone I am/will be close to really shy? Is that just how my life is going to end up? Mother is shy unless she's on the battlefield, Inigo is shy about his dancing, Nathan is painfully shy in general, and Father… well Father is normal from what I'm aware. "I guess none of us will ever see either of you dance then."

Both Inigo and Mother glance at each other hesitantly. They both desperately and obviously want to see each other dance, but don't want to be made a fool of themself.

"I'll show if you show first." Inigo blurts out.

"Wh-What? Why me first!?"

"You're my mother. Surely you should show me how it's done first."

"O-Or maybe you should be nice to your poor mother and indulge her _before_ asking her to dance!" Mother counters.

"Or you could _both_ dance because neither of you are going to mock the other!" I say. "This is not a difficult concept you two!"

The two of them glance away, blushing, and Father puts a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe give your mother and brother a break. Not all of us have your confidence Morgan."

Inigo and Mother continue to argue the question of who should dance first for the entire rest of the feast. Apparently confidence is a trait unique to me.

###

So, as much fun as it's been messing around with people at court, I do actually fulfil my part of the deal with Crius. I've been going over all the fun moments in extensive detail, but a lot of my time is dedicated to the more boring stuff. Smiling, complementing, using logic to argue whatever agenda Crius is trying to push. You know, the dull stuff. As much as Crius might be exasperated with me sometimes, I _am_ doing my job, and that's why he continues to teach me.

A lot of his teachings are not what I expected. I thought there'd be a lot of "make sure not to look them directly in the eye when saying X", or "be sure to hold yourself this certain way when entering a room", but there's very little of that. Most of what Crius' teachings are just providing me with information that would be hard to get otherwise.

I'm talking about rumors of Duke Lapetus secretly being involved in the Plegian trade, Sir Johnathan's conspicuously spotless battle record (he's a knight commander in the Ylissian Army), or how Lady Belladonna has supposedly been seen watching wrestling competitions held in the surrounding villages of her home.

I guess you could say he doesn't teach in the sense of giving lectures. Mostly he provides me with information to make use of, because by his own admittance I seem to do fine when I try to argue points, so he doesn't waste time trying to fix something I can already do.

What I'm trying to say is: the most vital thing Crius is teaching me is not that I need to hold myself a certain way or even that I need to be overly flattering. What he's taught me is that information is king, and his greatest contribution to my court life is essentially letting me have access (filtered through him) to his information network.

"Don't try to convince to Lapetus to support a social welfare policy when the absence of such things helps his slave trade", "Sir Johnathan will want to seem to be tactical genius to maintain his faultless image. As you are an _actually_ skilled tactician, it should be simple for you to back him into a corner when discussing tactics, then give him an easy out that just so happens to involve him agreeing that axes are extremely valuable to an army.", and "Lady Belladonna might be conducive to the idea of mandatory funding to rural sports organizations due to her clear fascination with wrestling, which is in turn useful for us as it encourages and legitimizes such activity in the eyes of the public at large" are all things that Crius has whispered to me at some point or another.

Incidentally, that last one with Lady Belladonna was part of an attempt by Crius to have the people he rules over be seen as less barbaric by Ylisse at large. Feroxi are notorious for hardcore sports. When they play, they're all-in and they take it dead seriously. Ylisse, not so much, and they see this sort of hardcore sports attitude as barbaric. So, because most of the people in Crius' territory are basically Feroxi, it's in his interest to legitimize sports in the public eye so that his people aren't, and by extension he isn't, looked down upon.

Granted, that plan didn't work so well. The verdict was that he was fine to implement the idea in his own dukedom, but it was rather pointless to try and get _everyone_ to implement support for sports rather than something more valuable. Even Crius admitted that in hindsight, it was a bit of a ridiculous plan.

Today is a bit different though. Crius has something else to share aside from information.

"It's probably about time I made this more clear. I assumed it was simply a matter of experience for yourself, but perhaps I may have been wrong."

Uh oh. Did I mess up? I don't remember messing up. I talked to everyone I needed to, managed to convince a reasonable amount of people of whatever he needed me to… maybe I _was_ supposed to hold myself a certain way? "Did I forget an order?"

"No." He shakes his head. "You've completed every job to an above average standard."

Okay, so I didn't fuck up. "What is it then?"

"Strategy."

I tilt my head in confusion. "What? But that's been going well too. We've been pushing your agenda and-"

He holds up a hand. "Not that. I mean the strategy for your image, so to speak. You're inconsistent."

"I don't follow…"

"Let me put it this way: When talking to someone for a job I've given you, how do you go about it? Very generally, how do you interact with the target?"

"Well I say hi, I smile a lot, maybe find something to compliment, then dive into business." I say. I feel like that's not enough, but that's really about it. "I act nice, sometimes genuinely, more often than not a facade."

"Would you say you speak logically?"

"Yeah, once the pleasantries are out of the way."

"And how about when dealing with people for your own sake?"

That's a wide spectrum. What's he getting at? "I smile and whatnot until I figure what they're about, I get as much information out of them as I can. Then, if they're a bad person, I tear them down as best I can, and if not, I chat."

"And therein lies the inconsistency."

"What?" I frown. "Me being nice to nice people and rude to bad people?"

"No." Crius says with a shake of his head. "The difference between when you're "on the job" and not."

"You mean that I'm sometimes nice to bad people?"

"In a way." Crius says. "You hear that distinction, correct? The difference between being on the job and not?"

"Well yeah, duh."

"Other people don't see that, and if they did, they'd take it into account."

I'm still lost. "So I should lead with that info…?"

"No, you shouldn't. It would undermine your job to tell people it's a job." Crius sighs. "Morgan… I'm saying that your two modes are working against each other. Your personal mode, when you tear down those you don't like, usually isn't helpful."

What? "You'd rather I people get away with-"

Again, he holds up a hand. "Not always, but sometimes… yes. If someone can be bent to your cause, yes, you let them get away with whatever they're doing. After all, your main goal, whatever it is, is your main goal for a reason. Unless your main goal is to tear down people you don't like, then doing so indiscriminately only _undermines_ your goal, especially since you are not truly taking these people out of action or ruining their reputation. You are simply crafting highly-personalized insults and humiliating people without dealing any lasting damage."

My first thought is one of indignation, but I hold it back to take a look at Crius' words. He's saying some of my tactics are undermining my strategy.

"So, in this case, my strategy is your strategy, right?" I ask.

"Not necessarily."

"But for the sake of understanding the problem, let's say it is."

"Alright." Crius nods. He seems to approve of this, of me trying to work through it.

"So my main goal is to increase your dukedom's prestige, and your own, of course."

"That's the simplified version, but yes."

"And our strategy is to play nice, make friends, and spend our energy wisely. Don't bother convincing people who we know won't listen, make special effort for people we think are susceptible."

"And more importantly." Crius adds. "We don't want to risk enemies. We are not in a position of enough power that we can afford them."

"Right." I say. So far, nothing wrong. "And I'm undermining this, you say, by humiliating people I don't like."

"Yes."

"But that's… I'm doing that off the job."

"Again, that's the problem." Crius says. "On the job, off the job; other people don't see that, and even if they did they wouldn't care. This is not a job at the library, where you stop being a librarian once your shift is over. Court is all-encompassing. There is no distinction between personal and professional."

"But then when can I make time for taking down terrible people?"

"You do so very carefully, and with absolute certainty it won't come back to bite you." Crius says. He softly puts a hand on my shoulder, and kneels down so we're eye level. "Do you understand Morgan? At court you are not a person, you are a persona, and everything you do has to take into consideration your goals. _All_ of your goals, and all at the same time. I mean that furthering one goal should not come at the price of a more important one."

I take this all in with a frown. Not a frown of anger, but of careful thought. I _had_ been treating Crius' jobs like… well… jobs. When I wasn't doing those jobs I did whatever I wanted. When looking at the bigger picture from an outside perspective… "I look inconsistent, don't I?"

"Very."

"Sometimes I smile and simper, sometimes I ruthlessly tear apart someone's arguments or character just for kicks."

"Yes."

"And other people aren't going to care that I'm doing something for fun or a job, in fact, they'd take advantage of it."

"Exactly."

"Right." I take a deep breath and exhale. In hindsight this seems _so_ obvious, but it's not something I'd considered. I'm used to operating in two modes: tactician and personal, and I was applying that here… but I can't do that. Court _is_ a job and I didn't recognize that. I saw parties and drinking and assumed that I could fuck around and have fun without consequence while only getting serious when I needed to. "So no tearing people apart."

"If you can find a way to do so without potential consequences… then please tell me, because I'd love to apply it." Crius says with a wry smile. "So you understand?"

"Yes." I nod. "Smile and play nice no matter what."

"More like you shouldn't antagonize people for the fun of it, even if they deserve it." Crius chuckles. "If you want to "tear someone apart" you need a purpose. If you can use that intelligence and logical mind of yours to get proof of some of the underhanded dealings that go on in these people's lives, that's prime blackmail material, or potentially something that could get them in trouble with the crown. Yes, a public humiliation is satisfying, but it doesn't really change anything now does it? It just gets you an enemy. If you really don't like some of these people then hold in your impulsive wit, put on your smiling face, pay careful attention, collect information, talk to their servants and friends and look into their business. _Get proof_ , or at least enough evidence to make a convincing argument that they've done something wrong, and then exploit it. That can be blackmail, or just giving it to your father, the prince, the Exalt, _someone_ who can make sure that your target is punished. _That_ is how you antagonize with purpose."

I like that line. Antagonize with purpose! "I get it."

"I know you do, and if there's anyone who can ruin someone's life it's probably you. Naga knows you have the intelligence for it." Crius says, and pats me on the back.

"But I probably shouldn't try and destroy someone at the moment."

"Indeed. Perhaps let's focus on building a consistent persona at the moment, yes?"

###

"You're joking." Inigo says.

"Nope."

"That's unfair…"

"Aww, poor Inigo." I smile savagely. "Your amnesiac younger sister got a boyfriend in a few months whereas you've been trying for _years_ just to get someone to go on more than one date with you."

"You're a girl, it's easier for you." Inigo grumbles. "Men actually have to _try_ to get dates. You just have to smile and wait for someone to approach you."

"I'll have you know _I_ ' _m_ the one that asked him out, not the other way around, thank you very much." I say. "I did not just wait and smile!" Mostly because I recognized very quickly that there was no way smiling and waiting would have worked with Nathan. Confident he is not.

"Lucky bastard." Inigo says. "I wish women would throw themselves at me…"

"I did not throw myself at him." If I remember correctly, sat in his lap. "If you didn't incessantly hit on everyone you came across, maybe they would throw themselves at you."

Inigo rolls his eyes. "Oh please…"

"What? You're cute enough. Just be a nice guy, and you're sure to get someone at some point."

"It only takes being a nice guy?" Inigo scoffs.

"Kinda." I shrug. "I mean, for the initial attraction phase that works. If you want an _actual_ relationship you need chemistry of some sort, and pure good looks and the ability to be polite isn't enough there. I haven't stayed with Nathan just because he's cute and sort of polite.

"When did you become a love guru?"

I shrug. "I didn't. I'm taking a guess."

Inigo shakes his head. "Speaking of Nathan… who is he? You mentioned before he was an outworlder, right?"

"Yeah. Different dimensions entirely rather than a parallel timeline. Where he comes from we're characters in a game, and magic doesn't exist. Also the technology is way more advanced."

"Magic doesn't exist? How did he end up here?"

"Naga."

Inigo blinks. "Naga?"

"Yep."

Inigo stares at me, then takes and releases a deep breath. "Okay, maybe start from the beginning."

Gladly. I'm not going to miss a chance to talk about Nathan!

I recount as much as I can about Nathan. His world and what it was like, how he got here and why he can't go back, what he's good at and learning, and, of course, how he encourages all my bad behaviour. I decidedly focus on the positive aspects, and only mention off-hand the negatives.

I'm sure Nathan will make Inigo aware of his negatives _extensively_ when they meet anyhow. Nathan is, unfortunately, very good at highlighting his own flaws.

"That's quite the story." Inigo muses when I finish. "A genius from another world…"

"A fairly average person from another world." I correct. "Who just so happens to know a little about a lot of things."

"Ringing endorsement from the girlfriend." Inigo says sarcastically.

"I'm describing him how he would describe himself on a good day." I say. "I mean, _I'd_ say he's extremely indulgent and patient, has decent logical skills and enough knowledge of psychology and basic science facts to offer a tentative explanation of many different things including psychological quirks and basics, as well as logical fallacies people tend to fall into… do I need to go on?"

"No, I get it." Inigo says, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll take your word for it."

"Or you could just _wait to meet him_ rather than making a judgment now."

"Or that." He agrees.

###

Now that I'm not happily antagonizing anyone who mildly annoys me, I've started to see certain depths to people I talk to with the mindset that everyone is putting on a persona. Or, I guess I should say I've started to develop instinctive suspicion, because here's the thing: you usually can't tell if someone is putting on a front or not. Now, objectively this suspicion is useful. It puts me in the right mindset, where I analyze every action from the other person, looking for hidden meanings and trying to gauge how genuine people are being. It's exhausting. It's exhilarating too, trying to pick people apart from just their words and body language, but it's mentally taxing in a way I didn't expect.

In addition, I can't tell you how frustrating it is to _not_ be able to tear into someone if I want to. Because, wouldn't you know it, Crius was right and it just makes enemies, and I'm still trying to figure out the detective work to actually get the information I need if I want to seriously get someone in trouble. I get some serious work developing a smiling mask even as I internally fantasize about breakinging someone's nose.

Not that I don't. Some people are just creeps, because even though I'm not antagonizing people anymore some people like to corner me or make advances and… well, I'm an incredibly attractive, young, unmarried girl in a place mostly filled with powerful men of all ages. Use your imagination. I _do_ still break some noses and dislocate limbs on occasion, but at least I can say I didn't make a mockery of the perpetrator beforehand.

(It's very cathartic to punch someone in the face after having so many tempting targets but not being able to take a swing)

Also, Father pops in to an event unannounced, and it's great.

So there I was, being my amazing self: promoting Crius' ideas, getting information on nasty people to try and follow up on later, and trying to rebuff this eager but irritating young merchant who seemed to think that talking about increasingly exotic types of furniture is going to make me interested in him. Really living my best life!

The event is actually the afterparty of a particularly highly-anticipated play among upper crust society. Even things like these are the breeding grounds of court intrigue apparently. Go figure. I don't know if Father actually saw the play or not, because this afterparty isn't exactly being held at the theater, but when he walks through the door you can see everyone's eyes turn to him. It happens like a wave. First the people at the entrance turn to look, then the people next to them notice and look, and it ripples through the rest of the room until most people are looking at Father.

I made a bit of a splash on my first introduction at the hands of Crius, but it's clear just by everyone's reactions that Father is thought to be important. Chrom's right hand man, a high-ranking general, and responsible for taking down Gangrel! The great Robin… uh…

What's our last name? I can't believe I never thought about that. Do we not have a last name?

Anyhow. There are a lot of people looking at Father. He's wearing his tactician's coat rather than any sort of formal or party attire, so that only makes him stand out more.

Now, the big question. To keep character, or not to keep character? Do I look at this pragmatically, seeing how I can abuse Father's appearance here… or break character and just go "Yay! Dad's here!"?

I go with the latter. I think it's fairly obvious there isn't going to be some huge drawback.

Gratefully taking the excuse to get away from the overly friendly merchant, I deftly weave and push through the people around me and make a small sprint to get to Father before some of the other people who've finally decided to approach. "Father!"

"Morgan." Father says, dropping his carefully neutral face to smile and hug me. "How was the play?"

"It was fine." I chirp. In a lower voice, I add, "Honestly? Nothing special. I don't understand the excitement for it, but everyone here thinks it's the best thing since pegasi."

He nods and smiles briefly, then turns to deal with the small group of people that have gathered to talk to him.

Despite having no experience in this sort of stuff, Father handles the attention rather well. He does that by being polite, saying little, and excusing himself from any conversation where it's clear that the other party doesn't actually have much of relevance to say.

That's most people, in case you couldn't figure that out on your own. This is the first time most of these people have seen Father, much less spoken to him, and unfortunately for them Father doesn't seem to be here for small talk.

Why _is_ he here then? Is it to see me work? I think him being here is going to be detrimental to me actually being able to work if I'm honest. He'll have a lot of attention whether he intends it or not.

His goal is made clear a few minutes later after he fends off everyone around him. He then locates Crius, and makes a beeline for him.

In hindsight, yeah, of course that's why he would be here. I'm surprised Father didn't talk to Crius before behind my back if I'm being honest.

I follow along as Father makes his way over. I won't intrude if he doesn't want me to, but I'm curious as to what exactly he's going to say.

"Duke Crius." Father greets, extending a hand for a shake.

"High Deliverer." Crius says, and accepts the handshake. "It's a rare treat to see you."

"I'm sure." Father says.

"Business or pleasure?" Crius asks directly. If there's one thing I like about Crius, it's how direct he's willing to be.

"Both." Father says. "Business first."

"Of course. What is it you need, Deliverer?"

"I understand that the majority of your people are essentially Feroxi, yes?"

"They have heavy Feroxi heritage, yes."

"Are you privy to their weaponry?"

Crius raises an eyebrow. "Are you referring to axes and bows?"

"No, I mean specialized weapons." Father says. "Feroxi armorslayers, battle hammers, that sort of thing."

Crius straightens his back, intensely interested. "Indeed I am, though… perhaps this conversation should be taken away from curious ears, yes? I presume this is a somewhat sensitive topic?"

Father blinks, glances at all the people still watching him, then nods. "Uh, yes. Let's do that."

Crius leaves for a moment to have a quiet talk with the owner of the building, then leads us off to a small room that seems to be a private lounge with a few nice chairs and couches and a few full bookcases. He carefully closes the door behind him, and then takes a seat on one of the chairs while me and Father sit on the couch.

I probably don't need to be here, but neither of them have kicked me out so you better bet I'm going to tag along.

"So." Crius says. "Armorslayers, battle hammers, and I presume horseslayers are of interest to you as well?"

"Indeed." Father nods.

"Well, as I said, I am indeed knowledgeable in those such things." Crius says. "I am even capable of producing such things, albeit in small numbers. Are you interested in making an order?"

"Yes." Father says. "Though if you can only produce in small numbers, we may have an issue."

"Is it urgent?" Crius questions. His face neutral, giving no information of his reaction or intent. "If there is some immediate need, I do have some of the weapons held in reserve for wartime that I could loan."

"That would be useful, yes. Still, I have need of at least a few hundred of each."

"Is there some reason that you came to me, rather than our Feroxi allies?" Crius prods. "You are on good terms with them, yes?"

"Ylisse is officially demobilized, and the crown wishes for Ylisse to recover its reputation as a peaceful nation." Father says firmly. "Such a blatantly militarily-interested deal with another country, even on a minor scale, is against that desired image. As such I must look within the country for my needs."

"I see." Crius says. "Well, as of currently I can provide perhaps fifty of each weapon type, and with some dedicated production time I can have fifty more made in a few months.

"That will have to do." Father nods. "I'll take as much as you can make in half a year."

Crius raises an eyebrow. "That's not exactly cheap. Do you have a way to pay? Is the crown funding this? In addition, those weapons are rather unwieldy even for experienced fighters. There is special training needed to use them properly."

Father purses his lips. "And I presume such training can only be gotten from your people."

"By all means, if you can find someone else for training, go ahead, but my people are certainly the easiest way to obtain such training." Crius says. "Especially if you need to train more than one person at a time."

I think Crius has sussed out that this has something to do with the Shepherds, even though the Shepherds certainly don't have hundreds of people that would warrant so much specialized weaponry.

Actually, Father is being extremely unsubtle in his intent, though I'm not sure how subtle he could be about getting this sort of weaponry. Think about it. What reason would the Shepherds, or Ylisse in general, have for getting a bunch of dedicated anti-armor and anti-cavalry weapons? Maybe if they're planning on going up against a country known for its paladins, great knights, and generals.

Valm. I'm talking about Valm. And if I can figure this out, you can bet an actual politician like Crius knows exactly what's going on.

"You do realize that this is not much less an obvious military-minded move than simply buying the weapons from Ferox, correct?" Crius asks bluntly. "It is not exactly difficult to notice when dozens of expert blacksmiths spend months dedicated to creating specialized weapons in one dukedom of a supposedly demobilized country."

"I know." Father grimaces. "But it is the best I can do. At least this does not involve making a deal with another country."

"I presume I will be given temporary exemption to the crown's armament restrictions?" Crius asks. "As of currently, there are restrictions on how much weaponry I am allowed to have available to my forces, and there are additional restrictions on how much I can sell to government forces of _any_ country."

"It's a good thing you aren't selling to another government force, technically." Father says with a smile. "You'll be selling these weapons and training to the Bluescale Mercenary Company, which is officially operating out of Ferox, but has interest in the Ylissian engineering of these specialized Feroxi weapons."

"Ahh." Crius smiles in return. "And I suppose this company just so happens to have a few manaketes and a plegian tactician, and a man with a sword that looks suspiciously like Falchion?"

"Perhaps."

"And it just so happens that they are negotiating a contract with Rosanne to fight against Valm?"

"Maybe."

Crius shakes his head and laughs. "I can't say I'm surprised. If anything, it's a shock the prince had enough restraint to wait this long before finding a way to get Rosanne the help of the Shepherds. I think everyone was expecting him to charge to their aid as soon as news of the war reached Ylisse."

"I can't really say anymore." Father says. "I've probably told you too much already, but… I'm placing a certain amount of trust in you, Crius. Morgan speaks well of you, and from my own investigations you seem a trustworthy individual. Keep this quiet, don't mention the Shepherds' involvement, and we'll be grateful."

"As if I'd spoil such a golden opportunity." Crius reassures. "You have my secrecy, Deliverer."

This is exactly what Crius was hoping for when he agreed to help me, I realize belatedly. He got influence with my Father simply by virtue of taking good care of me, and through what I've mentioned off-hand to Father. Now he gets this unique opportunity where the Shepherds come to him for help, even though realistically going to Ferox for these weapons isn't much more of an issue. Crius might not be able to brag out loud about helping us because this is supposed to be hush-hush, but Father and Chrom certainly won't forget this help.

I do have to wonder if Father would have considered Crius at all if I wasn't working with him.

There's a brief discussion of how payment will work that I don't pay too much attention to, and the discussion changes to the other reason Father came here. He's here for work _and_ for pleasure after all. The reason for this is simple…

"I wanted to see Morgan at work." Father admits. "It's one thing to simply hear about what she does, and another to see it happen."

Crius smiles again. "I'm afraid watching her talk to people isn't anything special. As interesting an activity as debate and argumentation is, such a thing doesn't lend itself well to being watched in such an unstructured event such as this, and quite frankly I doubt you could observe her working without being pestered by others for even small amounts of time."

Father's shoulders sag slightly. "I was worried about that."

"Sorry Father, you're more interesting than me to the average court-goer." I tease. "You already missed all the fun stuff anyways! You should have seen me dealing with Dracovine. It was so fun…"

"That was a terrible and pointless move." Crius reminds me. Not to mention it was before I realized I was being an idiot.

"Oh definitely, but it was satisfying." I say with a grin.

I think I remember Nathan mentioning something about me being a sadist in the game. Perhaps there's a bit more weight to that then I expected. I _do_ take undue pleasure in messing with people sometimes.

"But you're not missing out on much Father. I just put on a smiling face and talk circles around people. Easy stuff."

"You sound like corrupt nobility already." Father notes.

Huh, I guess I do. I'm literally bragging about how easy it is to manipulate people. I'm not saying that I have good ideas or even that people like my ideas, I'm basically just saying people are stupid and I can make them believe what I want them to believe. "Alas, I have been corrupted already! At least I have my looks."

Father rolls his eyes and Crius raises an eyebrow. Come on… Nathan would have rolled with that, or smiled. Heck, Kjelle would have at least scoffed. I can take anything but indifference!

The rest of the event is fun, though mostly because I can watch everyone's obvious frustration that Father won't give them anything to work with and is incredibly tight-lipped. Apparently he has seen the play this is an afterparty for, because it's one of the few things he'll actually talk about.

Don't get me wrong, Father doesn't look like he wants to deal with these people at all. I'm taking enjoyment from everyone else obviously trying to get in his good graces and failing miserably, not Father's own discomfort.

It is funny to see people try and flirt with him though. Father isn't married, so some people are trying to test the waters with him. That puts a smile on my face. Father is delightfully awkward, and I get malicious joy out of knowing the poor women stand zero chance.

I'm probably a terrible person for enjoying all that, but I can't bring myself to care.

###

So, have you ever seen two people dancing around a very obvious issue when that very issue is the reason why they're interacting at all, and yet they refuse to talk about it outright? I have. Mother and Father do it whenever Mother is in Ylisstol between missions, and I don't know what to make of it.

Part of me wants to find it funny. I can see similarities with the time I poked at Nah and Laurent. Both Mother and Father flip-flop between the two rolls of sensing something might be off and trying to be helpful, and being too nervous to actually talk through what's causing the awkwardness in the first place.

It's obvious with Mother. She wears her heart on her sleeve. When she's nervous she hides her face and blushes like a tomato. Father is more subtle. He tries to look calm, composed, unbothered, and also open and friendly. Yet, when I watch closely, I can see his eyes darting back and forth, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and one of his hands tightly gripping the other hand's wrist beneath his coat. Father just doesn't hold himself the way he usually would when talking with Mother.

Like I said, some part of me wants to find it funny. Some part of me _does_ find it funny. It's like watching a bad romance book play out in front of me. I'm amused, fascinated, and yet… these are my parents, and I know full well this isn't how this would have played out, how this _should_ have played out. I know that if Inigo hadn't let it slip that this relationship was supposed to happen I wouldn't be watching these two dance around each other and I wouldn't have this nagging feeling that something could go wrong.

Because that's just it: I don't see something wrong. Not really. Yes, they're awkwardly bumbling around each other, but neither of them seem repulsed. Neither of them have rejected this future outright. I don't know if I'm reassured by this or not. I'm happy that they are trying to get to know each other, I'm happy that they're making an attempt to be parents to me and Inigo, I'm happy that they're trying to see if a relationship between them can work (if extremely awkwardly), but is that a good thing? Is that going to work? Can romance work that way? I can imagine another world where Father and Mother bonded over fighting in the Valmese war, or through Father helping Mother realize her dream of opening a theater like in their support conversations, or something more standard… but does this situation work? This one, right here, where I can see what could either be interpreted as something wonderful like being introduced to a soulmate, or horrible like a cosmically ordained arranged marriage.

I don't mention this to Father or Mother of course. They need to do what's best for them, and that means _not_ taking me or Inigo into account even if that means the two of them not being together in the end. I don't like the possibility that Inigo's unintentional interference might have caused a ripple effect that could actually cause our parents _not_ to get together, but it's very real, and it's why I'm not reassured. The fact that this bumbling is happening at all worries me, because it's a stark reminder that something went wrong.

I can see why Nathan only wanted one parent to know who the kid was, or maybe I'm just adopting his paranoia. Now that it's actually happened and I've had time to think about, Mother and Father being told too soon is immensely worrying.

I've made this speech before about being an adult and that I'll be fine no matter what Father does and that's still true, but I'd like to think I can't be blamed for wanting my family to be a family.

###

"You can actually read that?" Inigo asks, staring down at me lying in my bed with pages strewn around me.

"Yep."

"It's gibberish."

"English, actually." I say, and wave the translation page in front of his face, which he snatches. I have it mostly memorized, and anything I don't understand probably isn't going to be solved by that page anyways because English is a bullshit language that throws the rules to the wind whenever it feels like it.

"Why do they use the same symbol for multiple sounds?"

"It's a messy alphabet." And that is the understatement of the century.

"Why are you even bothering with it?"

"Nathan mentioned he wrote a few things down about politics and politicians in his world, but it was before he was comfortable writing in Ylissian, and seeing as it wasn't vital information he scribbled it down in English because it was easier for the sake of his own reference in the future." I say. "I want to see if he wrote anything down for common psychological quirks in politicians or about standard political maneuvers that I might be able to abuse, hence me reading all this."

"I thought you said he focused on what was useful when writing?"

"He did… mostly. And he also wrote down whatever came to mind that he was worried he would forget, and he usually wrote that in English for the sake of speed." I hum. "It's also completely unorganized so I have to just read everything and hope to stumble across what I want. In this one page I've read incomplete song lyrics, attempts to remember the main ingredients for various dishes that I've never heard of, speculation on how something called a "steam engine" works, and a brief plot summary of a game called "Starcraft"."

"Was he having a stroke at the time?" Inigo asks dryly. "Because that's not just unorganized, that's throwing the concept of organization into a fire and crushing the fire with a boulder."

I kick him in the knee and don't dignify that with a response. I know full well that these are scribble pads and wasn't expecting them to be organized.

"Why do you care anyways? You can just wait a few months for him to wake up and ask him then."

Yeah, but I'm _really_ feeling the effects of Nathan not being here, and immersing myself in his writing, even if it's random scribbles, is comforting in a roundabout way. His paper games are nice, but they're just not enough. I can't talk to him, but he can talk to me through these papers. I can almost hear him rambling and jumping subjects at random like he would when we were on the road in Ferox and he would talk to pass the time. It was almost like, since I didn't have a memory, he felt obliged to try and fill me in on everything I'd missed… even if I had no idea what he was talking about half the time because let's be honest, I have no idea what a "computer" is despite his explanations, and I obviously have no idea what any of the locations or names were. "I feel like it."

"How long have you been at this? Have you had any actual success?"

"A few hours, and no, not really." I admit.

Inigo shakes his head. "You need a hobby."

"I _have_ a hobby." I pout. "But no one likes playing with me."

"Because you always win, and playing games isn't a hobby."

"It is!" I grumble. "I analyze them too."

"And that's also why no one wants to play with you."

"Are you saying I'm a tryhard?"

Inigo's eyebrows shoot up. "What's a tryhard?"

"Oh, uh, Earth term. It's someone who takes a given thing way too seriously."

"Then yes, you're a tryhard."

I give Inigo the middle finger. "Why are you here Inigo? Did you come solely to poke fun at me? Didn't you have a date today?"

"I did."

"What is it this time? Did she leave early, or was she a no-show?"

"Rude! Maybe our date was just short."

"Suuure buddy. So what happened?"

Inigo determinedly looks away for a moment, then sighs. "She didn't show."

"Hmm." Can't say I'm surprised. I wouldn't doubt she only agreed to come in the first place to get Inigo to go away. "My condolences."

"Real sincere Morgan."

"Oh, but I am." I say in a tone that makes it very clear that I'm being sarcastic. "I'm so sad, terribly so."

"Morgan…"

"I even have a gift for you, to make you feel better about this _most traumatizing_ disappointment." I say, remembering a certain something I bought a long time ago. I roll out of bed and dig into my travel pack. I ignore the ache in my left leg as I do so. Growing pains suck, but I'm glad I can feel them. It's proof I can feel that the operation worked. "It's… here. Here you go."

I hand the red book to Inigo, not letting my expression give away my amusement. His eyebrows shoot up in confusion as he takes the book out of my hand, only to immediately furrow in annoyance when he flips open the first few pages.

"Morgan…"

"You're welcome."

"This is a bad romance book."

"Eroitca, actually."

Inigo immediately snaps the book shut and flushes red. "Erotica!? Why do you have erotica!?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm an adult." I say. "I can buy what I want."

"But- but-"

"Enjoy."

"I can't read this!" Inigo says, aghast. "It's-"

"Inigo, it's erotica, not an eldritch text." I say. "Calm down."

This is much more funny than I thought it would be. I wouldn't expect a womanizer to be so easily flustered. I thought this would be a joke that he would raise his eyebrows at and then promptly ignore the book, not treat it like something scandalous.

"If you don't want it, I'll keep it." I say. "It would make a good souvenir of my travels in Ferox I suppose."

Inigo looks conflicted for a second, then tucks the book under his arm. I give him a knowing look, and he blushes even more brightly.

"Have fun." I say cheerfully. "You're welcome."

"Why do you always mock me?"

"Because it's easy entertainment."

###

So, remember what Crius told me before about antagonizing with purpose? Find facts and all that? It's both much easier and much harder than I thought it would be.

Here's the thing… servants talk. I don't even need to break into someone's room to look for letters in order to get information on people. All I have to do is not look like another noble, and servants are usually more than happy to talk to me. I dress up in a plain dress, and don't look down my nose while talking to them, and bam, they're as chatty and gossipy as can be. Getting dirt on people is easy.

The hard part is finding anything I can actually use _._ Yes, it's nice to know a certain noble tends to keep suspiciously late hours and sometimes sneaks out of their house, and that their relationship with their wife isn't so great. Anyone can connect the dots there… but I can't use that information. I could confront the noble in question about it, but that's not helpful. I might have the information, but I don't have proof. There's nothing I can show to people that says "hey, this guy is scum", and I can't count on the servants to back me up with their words because they actually want to keep their jobs.

So that's why I say this is both easy and hard. Getting information isn't difficult, but finding proof or some _usable_ form of that information is hard. I don't go creeping into people's rooms to dig through their letters after all, though I'm starting to think I should.

I guess what I'm saying is that I don't know how to follow up on leads. I have no problem getting leads, but I can't really use them. I'm used to being able to literally punch my problems in the face or at least talk circles around them, but that just doesn't let me achieve what I want to here.

I'm explaining all of this to Crius as I sit on a small chair while he stands in front of a mirror trying to get his hair right. He's actually the one hosting tonight's event, and I'm here early.

"And so you've run into the most problematic part of the job." Crius says. "Unless you're willing to get your hands dirty and do something illegal, it's hard to get any sort of proof. Under most circumstances the most you can do is tell someone with official authority to look into things, or someone who has a stake in matters. That cheating noble? If you could get a message to his wife or perhaps his greater family or his wife's family, and tell them what to look for, you could cause serious damage to the noble's reputation. There are more ways to get someone in trouble than telling the crown."

"I see." I say. My disappointment must be rather obvious, because Crius sighs and turns to face me.

"I know you're trying to play the part of an investigator, rooting out corruption and all that, but without some sort of authority backing you up the simple fact is that you can't get someone thrown in prison or officially punished with any sort of ease."

"Who _is_ in charge of keeping corruption at bay in court?" I ask in frustration.

"That depends on who you're talking about. If you're referring to the dukes, then it is the Exalt's duty to keep them in line and deal out punishment as necessary. The dukes, in turn, manage their barons and other power players, and the chain of responsibility continues from there."

"How is the Exalt supposed to manage the dukes when she has so much else to deal with?" I ask.

"How indeed." Crius murmurs. "And there lies the problem, including the fact that many dukes have significant power, and at least one ally among the other dukes. It is difficult, if not impossible, for the Exalt to take serious action against any one duke without the others seeing it as a potential threat against their own power base and backing up the accused duke out of self-interest rather than any moral consideration. Only truly horrific acts can the Exalt substantially punish without opposition."

Well that sucks. "I suppose I'll have to get creative then."

"Just remember-"

"I know, don't leave traces back to me, antagonize with purpose." I say with a roll of my eyes. "I remember."

"Good." Crius nods. "Now, about tonight's goal..."

###

A myriad of small things happen in the month leading up to Nathan's awakening. I take Crius' suggestion on sending a message (anonymously) to the wife and family of the wife of the cheating noble, I finally get some use out of my magic practice under Miriel to create my first custom spell, I buy an unnecessary amount of stuff, and I electrocute Risen.

The messages don't show immediate results. It will take time before that happens. Everything else is more immediately interesting.

So, my spell. If you were expecting something cool, you're going to be disappointed. I made a spell that does makeup, because I can't be bothered to learn how to do it myself. The spell isn't customizable or anything, so it does the same thing every time. I made it because dabbing my face for four hours with product is boring, so this spell can do it in five minutes. I've used it a grand total of two times, because there's rarely an occasion that I actually need it. So… I guess you could say I wasted my time, but I made a spell and I'm proud of it.

Electrocuting Risen is pretty self explanatory. After half a year of staying in Ylisstol when my life before was all travel, I could use a bit of action. Training just isn't the same as actual fighting. So when a small pack of Risen is spotted outside Ylisstol I'm quick to volunteer to go fight them. I need a change of pace.

The Shepherds stuck in the Palace feel the same, and what was going to be a personal outing with some soldiers turns into me, Father, Chrom, Lissa, Maribelle and a few pegasus knights (including Phila apparently) hunting down this insignificant Risen pack to stretch our muscles after months of inaction.

Make no mistake, it's a slaughter. It's a small Risen pack, it would have to be to slip past all the patrols around the capital. They're not elite Risen either. It's a bunch of reanimated farmers. Easy target practice.

It feels nice to tear through a squad of Risen. Lightning flies from my fingertips, exploding all the Risen into purple smoke clouds! I don't know why they do that. Corpses shouldn't explode into smoke. But they do, and it makes killing them more cool!

Lissa and Maribelle are actually testing out some combat capabilities of their own in this little fight as well. They've both been practicing magic. Lissa uses fire while Maribelle uses wind. They're slightly inaccurate and not nearly as strong as me and Father, but they're not ineffective, so good on them I suppose.

Chrom is our only proper frontliner, but it doesn't matter all that much because he slashes through Risen with ease, and has enough speed to avoid the clumsy strikes of the Risen.

As much as these Risen are a pushover, I haven't forgotten that I almost got impaled by a mere farmer Risen once before, and Nathan had to push me out of the way. As much as I'm playing around here, I make a point to shoot down any Risen that gets around behind Chrom. I'm not going to take risks here.

I mean, Chrom isn't nearly as incompetant as Nathan so I doubt a Risen randomly swinging a pitchfork around is going to be a problem, but no sense in being reckless.

Sorry Nathan, but you suck at fighting. Actually… he probably wouldn't care. He doesn't like fighting in the first place.

Cleaning up the Risen is uneventful, but it's a nice stretch of the muscles after not fighting for a while.

The last minor thing that happens in the last month is me buying stuff. A lot of stuff. With the benefit of Nathan's body being mostly complete, that means Miriel can get body measurements.

This is for clothes. Because, you know, his new (old?) body is way smaller than the one I'm used to, so pretty much everything he owns needs to be replaced. I get a few basic outfits prepared beforehand, just so he has something to wear that's his own.

That's all I was going to do for shopping… and then I saw a bookstore and remembered that Nathan had mentioned he read a lot back on his world, so maybe getting some books would be a nice gift, especially since his birthday has passed seeing as it's been an entire year. Then I see a game store, and i just have to get some things there, and-

Point is, I end up buying a lot more than I anticipated. Ah, whatever. There are worse things than being a generous girlfriend.

I make a poor show of hiding my excitement and anxiety as Nathan's day of awakening draws nearer. A week before the day, I complete the last paper game he left for me. I start to consider how that day is going to go, what I'm going to say, and what I'm going to do. I have to remember that it won't have been a year for Nathan. It'll have been the blink of an eye.

Not that it's going to change my actions all that much. Even if it's been a few seconds for him it's been a year for me and I'm going to treat it as such!

The day of Nathan's awakening I roll out of bed early. I put on something nice because I can (and because Nathtan has no idea I was going to have the operation, and I am totally going to show myself off!), have breakfast with Father, and then immediately go see Miriel, taking some clothes for Nathan with me.

There's more waiting than I would have liked. Miriel and Laurent go into the room and check that the spell is completed, and then they do their own safety checks to make sure that he's healthy and not going to suffer some major organ failure as soon as they deactivate the spell. I wait outside as they do this. I don't care to see Nathan hovering in some weird magic capsule. I'll wait until he's out, thank you very much. I handed the clothes to Laurent beforehand, so Nathan can at least get dressed before I come in.

I wait outside the door for a minute, then two, then five, until finally…

"Morgan." Laurent's voice says from the other side of the door. "He is awake and out, come in."

Trying to maintain some level of composure I straighten my clothes, take a deep breath, and hold my head high as I walk through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. Timeskip over. Next chapter is Nathan's perspective. I'd like to remind you that from now on, Morgan chapters will be more frequent. You'll be getting a more equal amount of Nathan and Morgan stuff.


	21. Chapter 21

Coming out of a magic coma is an experience, and not the most pleasant one. It's not like coming out of normal sleep. I can still feel the lingering sleep magic weighing on my mind even as Miriel works to dispel it, and my body feels so incredibly heavy (despite the fact that I'm lighter than I used to be).

My limbs also don't want to work, so as soon as Miriel dismisses the capsule I fall forward, and Laurent quickly catches me.

My limbs are stiff, and on the whole I'm uncoordinated. I can barely keep myself standing when Laurent sets me on my feet again. It's not just exhaustion or dizziness, it's taking some serious effort to keep myself standing.

I know my old body- my current one now- is weaker than the one I was using a year ago, but I shouldn't be _this_ weak. I was somewhat frail before, but I wasn't so weak I couldn't walk.

Laurent helps me into some clothes (they fit me, strangely enough. Someone came prepared) as Miriel asks questions. I have to speak in a whisper, but my voice feels very strained.

"How unusual, none of the tests showed nearly as many side-effects." Miriel murmurs. "Perhaps it has something to do with the length of time you spent in transformation. I suspect you might be suffering from muscle atrophy, as your muscles developed a few months ago and have not had a chance to exercise."

Yay. Still, that's a small price for having my body back. I can't tell you how good it feels to see my familiar, bony hands out in front of me rather than the meaty, sausage fingers of my Naga-given body.

Miriel quickly does some checks with magic (she even has a brain scan spell. When did she make that?), asks me a bunch of questions (how do you feel physically? Emotionally? How uncomfortable are you) and then makes me do a few simple things like stretching and walking in a straight line to make sure I have my full capabilities (albeit currently weakened due to atrophy).

By the time Miriel's simple requests are done I can barely walk. A few minutes of moving around completely wiped me out, which is ridiculous.

Miriel says something to Laurent while I lean against a wall for support and Laurent goes to the door and speaks to someone outside.

Then the door opens and… _someone_ … steps though.

I've said before that most of the Shepherds are immediately identifiable. Their faces, despite being translated from the game's art style to reality, are very recognizable. Therefore, I assume this lady is not a Shepherd.

She looks sort of like what you'd expect female Robin to look like. The medium build to be specific. If this is actually female Robin that's going to throw a huge wrench in everything I thought I knew about this world, but she doesn't look so much like female Robin that I think it's actually her. It's just a strange resemblance.

How to explain... so, basic facts: She has short black hair with a vague purple sheen to it, peach skin, and she's a few inches taller than I am. Her face is… hmm… take medium female Robin's face, make it more round and soft, and slap on the most smug grin you've ever seen. She's also got legs, and based on her outfit she is very aware of this fact.

Part of the reason I really doubt it's Robin is that she isn't wearing the distinctive tactician longcoat. This lady is wearing a nice purple dress. It's not the sort of thing you'd see on Earth, where it looks like one continuous piece of silky fabric with no hemlines or anything. Not that sort of dress. Yet I wouldn't say it looks properly medieval either. The dress is a form-fitting, ankle-length, sheath dress with slits on the sides of the skirt so her legs peek out and a moderate neckline, and the material clearly isn't silk so it doesn't have that distinct sheen you see on fancy Earthly dresses.

Is there a party going on? Why is she _here_ if there's a party going on? Who is this person? I'm actually rather uncomfortable having a stranger, even- no, _especially_ an attractive stranger, eyeing me while I'm in such a weak state. I'd rather she wasn't here.

Miriel wouldn't let just anyone in here though. It has to be someone relatively important. Maybe she _is_ female Robin?

"-unusually weak. We think it may be due to muscle atrophy. He will require more physical therapy than expected, and for longer." Miriel explains to the lady. Again, why is this lady being told all about this? Why is _she_ in charge of me? What changed while I was out? Where's Morgan? "There may be other additional side-effects that I am unaware of. The length of his time in transformation was many times longer than the tests, so I cannot easily predict other consequences."

"Be assured that his atrophy is not so severe." Laurent says. "The fact that he can stand on his own demonstrates as much."

"Who…" I try to say something, but my voice really isn't working. I can only whisper, and none of them can hear me at the moment.

My legs are also starting to give out, so I slump more against the wall. This is something the others _do_ notice, but it's the lady rather than Miriel or Laurent that comes over to me. I instinctively shrink into myself when she reaches out to touch me and scowl in distrust, and that makes her frown.

"Nathaaan." She says, and something clicks in my head. There's no way. "Even if you're grumpy, you shouldn't give the cold shoulder to your own girlfriend!"

I blink slowly, processing that information. "Morgan?"

"Yeah?" She answers. When I don't ask a question, she realizes what my rhetorical question was actually for, and her grin returns to her face. "Wait, did you not recognize me?"

"Well…"

"Was it because I'm super hot now? Is that it?" She asks, smiling with supreme smugness. "It's the legs, isn't it? 'Cause I got legs now!"

That's definitely Morgan. Stupid amounts of self-confidence, no shame, and jumping straight to lewdness. "I'd hope you had legs before now." I rasp. "Or else I worry about how you managed to walk."

"Don't you know? I used illusion magic." Morgan jokes. Again she reaches out, and this time I don't shrink away. She slides her arms under my shoulders and around my chest and holds me up like that, and in turn I wrap my arms around her shoulders to stabilize myself. It's at this point I remember again that Morgan is now taller than me, because my eyes only come up to her chin.

It's a strange feeling to have Morgan looking down on me, literally. I'm used to being multiple heads taller than her, and this dynamic feels very different. I guess the core of it is that Morgan looks more powerful and more dominant from this perspective. I know it's just a psychological quirk where taller people look like they're more in charge and more important, especially in person, but just because I know the quirk doesn't mean I don't get feelings associated with it.

Morgan realizes she's taller than me now too, and instantly lets me know it. "It's cute that you're smaller than me now. I think I like this."

"You just like that it makes you feel tall." I say.

"Well, that's certainly a bonus." Morgan says with a grin. "But think about it. I can pick _you_ up now, or hold you in place, and have all sorts of fun~"

"Jumping straight to the vaguely lewd implications, aren't we?'

"Nathan, I haven't been able to make lewd jokes in a _year_ , you bet I'm not holding back now."

Fair enough. "I'd still poke you in the nose if I wasn't exhausted."

"And on that note, you need to lie down." Laurent interrupts. "Morgan-"

"I'll take him back to his room." She says. "I remember your instructions. Nothing too heavy for meals, nothing strenuous for a few days."

With Laurent's help I'm put on Morgan's back so she can carry me. I feel bad about potentially damaging her dress, but Morgan either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

Either through luck or through planning, we don't run into anyone on the way back. We don't run into any servants in the halls, and most of the Shepherds are thankfully out at the moment, so Morgan can carry me into the barracks and into my room without any interruption.

I vaguely notice the pile of stuff now in the corner of my room that I certainly didn't own a year ago, but honestly I'm just tired. I know Morgan wants to talk, but as soon as I'm laid down on the bed I'm ready to sleep. I think walking around as much as I did, which is barely anything at all, completely wiped me out.

Morgan doesn't try to keep me up when I'm clearly not capable of it. She closes the curtains and leaves me alone, and within minutes of her leaving I'm no longer awake.

###

I wake up because of food. Specifically Morgan bringing food. She's also changed into something more normal. I guess it's good her coat was always a bit oversized, because it fits nicely now.

"I could have walked to the dining room." I protest.

"And I would have had to carry you back." Morgan says. "And besides, I want you to myself at the moment. Everyone else can wait their turn."

"I think you grossly overestimate the number of people who care to talk to me Morgan."

"I can think of at least five." Morgan says. "My brother, Severa, Yarne, Cynthia, and Owain all certainly want to talk to this outworlder they've heard so much about."

"You better not have been talking me up, or else they're going to be sorely disappointed."

"I've only talked about you extensively to Inigo." Morgan says. "Because he kept asking."

"Good."

"Besides, I'm sure Nah and Kjelle have told them enough about you anyways."

Right. I totally forgot about them. "Anyhow, what happened while I was asleep? I'm sure you have some stories to tell."

"Maybe one or two." Morgan says. "I won battles, dueled wits in high society, and broke hearts… and fingers, and toes, and a nose, and maybe an arm or two…"

"I'm guessing you don't mean in battle, judging by your town."

"I mean at parties." Morgan says, and she sounds delighted by this fact. "I've been playing around with nobles and aristocrats and such, and some of them were so entranced by my incredible intelligence and good looks that they couldn't keep their hands to themselves! That, or they feared me and tried to keep me quiet, because I'm just that awesome!"

"Playing around at court, huh?" I say. "I feel sorry for all those nobles already…"

"Don't be, they were mostly scum." Morgan chirps. "But it was fun for a while, at least until I had to get serious so I could make real change."

"Real change?"

"Well, not much at the moment." Morgan admits. "Mostly I'm trying to get dirt on some particularly unsavory individuals. Getting the information isn't hard, but proof is more difficult."

I nod in understanding, and motion for her to keep on talking as I start to eat.

Morgan has a _lot_ to say, and it takes much longer than me finishing my meal. In fact, that's how we spend the entire afternoon. I lie on the bed as Morgan chatters on about their trip to get Severa and Yarne and how she had a _fucking brain tumor_ which Miriel casually removed like that isn't a precise surgery that would require years of training back on Earth. She talks about someone named Crius who is mentoring her in the ways of the court ("we're overdue to renegotiate our deal actually. I think we both totally forgot about that") and about Inigo and how he accidentally revealed that Robin and Olivia are their parents, and really anything else she can think to tell me.

It's about what I expected to happen on my first day awake: a crash course on what Morgan did for the last year.

###

It's weird to wake up and see a different face. Not my face, to be clear. Morgan's. I've gotten used to having my old body back very quickly, but I keep being caught off guard each morning when Morgan walks into my room. It's hard to reconcile small Morgan with tall Morgan, even if she acts the same.

Anyhow.

The next two weeks are a slow, exhausting process of bringing myself up to some level of physical functionality. I thought Morgan had a job, but apparently it's not important or she took time off because she's by my side the entire time.

To be clear, when I say "some level of physical functionality" I don't mean fitness. I am _not_ fit by any stretch of the imagination. I just mean that I'm making it so I can walk from the barracks to the castle without needing to sleep for three hours afterwards.

In between physical rehabilitation, when I'm not playing a game or doing something similarly fun or unimportant with Morgan, I catch up on what's happening in the world and deal with a _lot_ of introductions. Morgan met a lot of people while doing court stuff, and those people are obviously around the castle area a lot, so every time we leave the barracks we're running into someone who recognizes Morgan.

Honestly, I can't remember any of those people within maybe a few minutes of meeting them. I really just don't care about them, and Morgan doesn't encourage me to. By her own admittance, most of them don't matter all that much.

The introductions I actually care about are the new future children, but I'm going to have to wait on them because they're off with the main group of the Shepherds. The only Shepherds here in Ylisstol and not out killing Risen are the ones with politics or paperwork or something equally dull to deal with. Them and Morgan.

"We're going to be going to Ferox, and then to Valentia soon enough." Morgan informs me at some point. "Under the guise of the Blue Scale mercenary company. You can meet them then. I think Father and Chrom wanted to ask you to come along. Your notes are nice and all, but it's no substitute for you being there to clarify information and fill in gaps."

Fair enough. I'd feel bad sitting around in Ylisstol while everyone else is out in Valentia anyways. There's only so much I can do from a continent away. I mean, there's only so much I can do in person, but at least I can help around camp if I'm there in person.

Weeks drag on as I slowly improve my fitness. At two months me and Morgan start incorporating sword fighting back into my daily routine. I was practicing swords before my transformation, and honestly that might have been detrimental because I have to relearn quite a bit. I have to adapt for my much shorter reach and lack of strength. Rather than learning to block everything I have to learn to deflect, and Morgan makes a point to teach me techniques that don't rely on raw power. I pick up my crossbow again for the first time in forever, and thankfully within a few hours of practice I'm back up to where I was before.

Thank Naga for the simplicity of a crossbow. Just aim and press the trigger.

Morgan also starts doing more work at court, leaving me with time to myself. I use that time on a plan I've come up with.

See, I won't be contributing in a fight, right? Yes, I can help around camp, but anyone can do that, and they can probably do it better than me because they'll have the physical strength. However, I still have something no one else does: games.

So I have a plan. So far I've been making games just for me and Morgan, aside from that one for Virion I made as a gift. However, I can imagine soldiers would enjoy having a wide array of distractions for their precious free time, so I get to work using my time away from Morgan to start making a variety of games.

Maybe it'll have to be some sort of game library where you check out the game and return it, just so I don't lose anything, but regardless of how I go about this business I can at least provide something useful.

I start with copies of the games I've made so far. Checkers is easy to make, as is Yahtzee and Abalone. Dice, marbles, and small disks are not a problem to carve out, and the game boards are simple as well.

I stretch out to some more luck-based games after that. Soldiers love gambling, right? Might as well tailor to that. To do this necessitates learning how to make cards or getting someone to make them for me, because most of the luck-based games I know involve cards. I do both, though I quickly realize I need specialized equipment to make my own cards. Making paper is time-consuming, and the process of doing even simple art on all the needed cards for games is even more so. Varnish is a bitch to get sometimes, but isn't all that difficult to apply.

In the end, I decide it's more practical to leave making cards to someone else and simply buy the cards, especially since I'll need a large amount of them. Through learning about card production, however, I make some useful contacts in a small group of card-makers and their associated artists who are quite interested in the variety of custom cards I need for my games. The money I've made off being a Shepherd is enough to cover a few games' worth of custom cards, so I order those with the promise of more orders to come.

I learned about those card-makers through Morgan, actually. She asked a few questions to some merchants at court and pointed me in the right direction. Connections are useful.

It makes sense why the cards I ordered were quite expensive considering how common of an item cards are when I receive the first ones. These are professional, high-quality cards with art to match.

Well, I guess I'm going to have mediocre boards and pieces with really nice cards. Whatever. It inspires me to put more effort into those boards though, and carefully dabble in painting the pieces rather than bare-bones unpainted wood like I've been doing so far.

These games are starting to look like proper games, so to speak, rather than just slapped-together wooden planks and lumpy figurines.

I have a vague plan in the back of my mind that involves taking advantage of my new contacts' skills to quickly produce some fully card-based games and sell them for profit rather than reserving them for my game library idea, but I push that plan to the back of my mind for now. One thing at a time. I'd have to sell those games to people who can pay enough to afford the cost of making them, and that means trying to sell to nobility and aristocracy. Let's not take that risk yet.

So, uh, yeah. That's what happens in the background over a few months. Exercise, training, and making board games. It's really not that different from what I was doing before, but I have much more of a purpose for all of this than before.

###

In many ways, spending time with Morgan is the same as always. We play games, train and spar, talk a lot, and do bits. Yet, there are undeniable differences brought on by the gap of a year between us. For one, I wouldn't hesitate to say Morgan dotes on me now. Not in the sense of constantly fretting over me, but in the sense that I am suddenly getting a steady stream of gifts. It's usually minor things like a trinket I showed interest in, despite the fact that I could easily afford such things if I really wanted them. This is in addition to all the stuff she got me for when I woke up as well. I struggle to find anything to give her in response. I just don't have the eye for potential gifts and hate to buy something thoughtlessly. Though I do get Morgan a few things here and there when I find something appropriate.

Morgan also takes me out to restaurants fairly often as well, which is nice, but that's not cheap to do. I'm flattered, but also not sure how to take the fact that Morgan is spending a not insignificant amount of money on me.

She's also… uh… maybe you should just see...

"I'm starting to think you're a little _too_ happy about being taller and stronger than me."

"Whaaat?" Morgan says with a large grin. "Me? Never. What makes you think I'm too happy about this?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe the part where you're pinning me to the wall?" I suggest. "Or how you make a point to hug me tight enough that I can't wiggle away?"

"I never noticed!" Morgan gasps, obviously joking. She promptly tightens her hug. "Thanks for telling me, now I can do it intentionally!"

"Just so airheaded you didn't notice, huh?" I attempt to tease. "You grew physically but shrunk your brain."

"Yep. I'm just a dumb young girl playing around at court, at the mercy of all the big important men there." Morgan says. "Looking for a powerful husband, like a good daughter concerned with her family's prestige."

Suuure. "So what does that make me?" I say. "I'm certainly not powerful."

"Poor Nathan, being toyed with by a rich girl." Morgan teases.

"Is that the bit we're going with?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "The poor schmuck trying to court the flighty rich girl without realizing she has other interests in mind?"

"Sure, I like it." Morgan chirps. "Ooh, maybe it's that I think of you like a pet! Something fun and cute and entertaining that I can shower with affection without any actual romantic notion in mind, despite what my actions would suggest."

"That can work." I nod. "Although…"

"Hmm?"

"You're seriously hugging a bit too tight, it's hurting my ribs."

"Ah." Morgan loosens her grip. "Sorry. I keep forgetting how frail you are now… I mean, I remember that I'm stronger than you of course, but I never had to take into account how much force I used because you had so much muscle."

I roll my eyes a bit. "I'm sorry I'm not the perfect squeeze toy."

"The _perfect_ toy wouldn't talk back." Morgan shoots back, smiling again.

"Oh I see, you just want someone who you can boss around. You're showing your true colours now that you feel all in-charge." I tease. "All it took was a few centimeters of height for the truth to come out."

"Guilty as charged." Morgan shrugs. "I do like to feel in charge, and I like to feel you squirm a bit."

Wow, uh, "Coming on strong today, aren't we?" This is what I mean. There's obviously always been strong innuendo and sexual undertones to and surrounding our bits, but Morgan has become rather forward lately. I'm not saying that's bad, but I'm at a loss as to what to do about it and have so far been dancing around it.

"Yes." Morgan says, not even bothering to make a joke out of it. She leans in very close, bringing us nose-to-nose. "I may or may not have been waiting more than a year to be able to do things like this."

I try to ignore my dry throat and pounding heart. This wouldn't be so hard to deal with if Morgan was small! I can deal with small, impish Morgan. I could pat her on the head or poke her on the nose and deflate this whole situation. It would be our usual routine. But those actions were specifically brought on by our height dynamic. Now, Morgan is taller than me, and rather than just being cute she's… hot? It's throwing me for a loop.

It's stupid that I'm getting flustered over her. I literally made a joke a year ago about an oedipus complex (and it _was_ a joke. It was purely for a bit), and now I'm getting nervous about much more standard relationship stuff.

I don't want to treat this like a bit though. I could put on a mask and act my way through this, but that feels rude. I wish my limited confidence was more than a facade I could throw on when doing a bit. "Why not before I had the spell performed on me?"

"Because that wasn't _you_ , exactly." Morgan says. "I just… okay, I've wanted to be a bit more forward for a while, but even when I knew you would be staying here and not leaving to Earth it didn't feel right to… I don't have a good explanation… show affection or interest towards your Naga body. Because that's essentially not _you_ , and I didn't want to show myself being interested in that body when you made it clear you weren't a fan of it."

I'm rather humbled by such consideration. Morgan apparently put a lot of thought into when it would be appropriate for her to act. I hadn't even considered that my old body might have been a factor affecting how me and Morgan interacted beyond simple height dynamics (like not being able to give her piggyback rides anymore). As much credit as I always give Morgan, I still haven't been giving her enough apparently.

"So, anyways, unless you're going to protest, I wanna kiss." Morgan says bluntly. A grin crosses her face. "And you're not going to say no, are you?"

"Of course not, but goddamnit Morgan I can't keep up with you."

"I'm not moving _that_ fast Nathan." She laughs. "You're just nervous."

"Well yeah." I start to babble. "It's just, I-"

"Okay." Morgan interrupts, and releases the hug to grab my shirt at the shoulders. "So, since you're stalling, I'm going."

"Going? As in leave-?" I'm cut off by Morgan, who is not leaving, doing the expected thing and kissing me.

So, uh, because I was an anti-social shut-in I've never actually kissed someone before, and I can say now that it feels weird. Not bad, just… weird. I guess I'll say that tongues are weird and teeth get in the way. I also feel safe in saying that most of the appeal comes from the hormone rush that comes alongside the act rather than the act itself.

But it's certainly one hell of a rush. Ten out of ten, would- _will_ \- do again. Hopefully.

I'll spare you the details of the next hour or so. You can guess, and if you can't… it's more of the same. What did you expect?

###

After hearing about him for a few months from Morgan, I end up meeting Crius, and it's entirely by accident.

I don't exactly know why he's in the barracks. From what I'm aware he usually meets Morgan at whatever event is going on, so this is unusual.

I recognize him from the description Morgan gave me. Dark orange hair with some grey in it, tall, and with ostentatious dress.

I'm returning from picking up more cards. They're currently in a neat wooden box in my left hand. It's for a game called Sorry that I'm recreating. Morgan is not enthused by this one because of the heavy luck factor, and I agree honestly. It's not for us, it's purely for the game library idea.

I'm starting to plan out the making of Scythe, but that's going to take a lot of time and effort. I'm committed to it though. I really like that game, and I want to have it back.

Er, anyways, Crius.

Honestly I considered not talking to him. Just walking past him and not saying anything. He's Morgan's business, not mine. I'm not sure if Morgan would want me talking to him. Court can be a vicious place, and I don't want to accidentally say something wrong.

At the same time though… I want to know if he's really awful, or if Morgan is pushing him around. I know Morgan has grown over the last year and all, but it's hard to forget those times Morgan pushed people around just because she could.

"Are you looking for Morgan?" I ask quietly, causing the man to startle. Apparently I was more quiet than I thought. "I can go fetch her."

"It's quite alright." Crius says. "She was present just a moment ago, and will return soon."

"Ah, good." I murmur sheepishly. My courage mostly deserts me, and I try to get out of this conversation. "I'll just be on my way then…"

"Would you happen to be Nathan, by any chance?" Crius asks. "You match the description of such a person Morgan has mentioned."

" _Has mentioned?_ " I guess Morgan spoke of me once or twice then didn't mention me again. Fair enough. I'm not sure I'd want her going on about me to people at court anyways, even her… boss? Mentor? Morgan calls him a mentor, but he sounds more like a boss to me based on what I know they've been up to. "Well, yes, I'm Nathan. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Crius nods. "Has Morgan spoken of me in turn? Or is she not one for court business at home?"

Is that a question I should be answering? I don't know how politics work. Is Crius fishing for information? Am I just being paranoid? Can I trust his questions?

Short answers then, just to be safe. Don't say anything more than you have to. "You've been mentioned before. She talks about some things."

Crius raises his eyebrows at my curt, slightly distrusting tone. I didn't mean to sound hostile, but I suppose my curtness was always going to sound a bit rude. Oops?

"Cautious, aren't we?" He says.

"Yes." I say. "Morgan knows you, I don't."

"That is true, I suppose." Crius nods. "But you could benefit from being more subtle about your caution."

"It's a good thing I'm not a politician then." I say.

"Indeed." Crius murmurs.

It's at this point Morgan appears and interrupts our awkward little conversation. She's dressed in something nice again. Not as nice as what she was wearing when I first woke up after my transformation, but relatively nice all the same. "I'm read- oh, Nathan!"

She completely disregards the much more important person in the room for a moment to give me a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, and I (much more tentatively) return the gesture.

"I'm going to a party!" Morgan chirps.

"I can tell." I say. The outfit makes that obvious enough. "Perhaps you should be talking to the person who is here to escort you… I presume."

"Indeed." Crius says, and offers his arm. "Lady Morgan."

"Okay, okay!" Morgan says. Her face quickly settles into something much more calm and less obviously enthusiastic. She's putting on a mask. Even I can identify that. "I'm ready, milord."

I try not to snort. Morgan calling someone "milord" is not something I ever thought I'd hear. She's usually so irreverent. "Enjoy yourself… I mean, if you can."

"I will." Morgan says. "I'll be back late, don't wait for me."

"Alright."

Morgan and Crius leave, and I still can't decide whether I trust Crius or not. I guess I'll have to put faith in Morgan's judgement.

Not that it will matter all that much. In about a month, the Shepherds are going to be leaving to northern Ylisse to get training for some specialized weapons (that's actually classified information which I'm pretty sure Morgan shouldn't have told me, but she trusts me) and then we're going to be leaving for Valentia after that.

I spend the evening and some of the knight working on making Sorry to take my mind off that looming inevitability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter I suppose. It's just a transition to fill in the rest of the lull between wars. We'll be getting to Valentia in the next chapter or two.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan POV.

"Look at these pathetic Ylissians trying to pretend they are proper Feroxi." Nathan scoffs. "Don't they know Armorslayers are Feroxi weapons? I don't see why the boss would have any interest in these weaklings. Why, I've never used one and I could probably perform better than _these_ fools thanks to the red hot Feroxi blood in my veins."

"The boss was interested in "Ylissian crafting techniques" and "an Ylissian spin on Feroxi tradition"." I add, and then spit forcefully on the ground. "Pathetic. Feroxi techniques cannot be improved upon! It's not like we live in a harsher environment and have less time to devote to learning advance smithing techniques because we're busy trying to survive!"

"Ha! Our dangerous environment only makes our smithing more _hardcore_!" Nathan growls. It's cute when he tries to be gruff now, because he lacks any of the bulk or muscle that would make such a thing even vaguely intimidating or believable. "Our steel is extra strong _just like our muscles_!"

"And our skulls!" I add. "So hard they can't be broken!"

"Yeah!"

"Can you two please try _not_ to offend three halves of the dukedom?" Father says dryly.

"But Father, we're _true Feroxi_!" I say, still in a dramatic voice. "We're reminding these traitors of their _true heritage_!"

Father pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why is it that as soon as we leave Ylisstol you're suddenly a comedian…?"

"We're not comedians, we're _warriors_." Nathan adds.

"Nathan." Father sighs. "Don't encourage her."

Fat chance of him listening to that.

"And for Naga's sake, don't let Duke Crius hear you talking like that."

"Why do you think we're doing this bit now, when he's not here?" I chirp. "And I'm not suddenly a comedian! I've always been a comedian! Ylisstol was just stifling my creative and comedic genius! Stuffy nobles to the left and to the right, my partner gone for a year! Such conditions are not conducive for a free spirited genius such as myself!"

"You fail to understand Robin." Nathan says, putting on a deep, dramatic voice, and holding a hand up in the air. "Morgan will revolutionize the ancient and powerful art of improvisational theater! The planet is her canvas, and world events are merely fodder for spontaneous skits that cut deep to the issues felt by all of humanity!"

Father sighs again. "I can understand now why Kjelle grumbled about you two so much."

"She doesn't appreciate art." Nathan scoffs, and dismissively waves his hand. I mimic the action while putting on my best derisive sneer. "Don't be drawn in by the non-believers' lies. Improvisational theater is the one true calling."

"Are we a cult now?" I stage-whisper to Nathan. "Can we make this a cult bit?

"Sure." He whispers back. He then coughs once and stands up straight. "Rob-"

"No thanks, I'm done with this." Father groans.

"Ah, uh, okay." Nathan squeaks, abruptly dropping out of the persona. "Sorry."

"It's fine, just… stop."

Honestly that reaction isn't too unusual. It's a lot harder to do bits with people that aren't future children around. Everyone's so serious. I kinda miss the days of travelling with just me, Nathan, and Noire. Me and Nathan could do whatever bit crossed our mind and Noire wasn't about to stop us.

Ahh, simpler times… simpler times with way more stress, but simpler times.

With Father disapproving of our fantastic acting skills, me and Nathan have to find something else to do on the walk. After getting some distance from the others, I manage to nudge Nathan into singing. It's been a very long time since he sang anything, and I've always found Earth songs fascinating.

That passes enough time to tide us over until we reach our destination at the very least.

###

Armorslayers are fun. I absolutely don't need one because I have magic, but I get trained to use one anyways because any Shepherd that can use one of these specialty weapons is going to learn them, if purely so we can teach others when we get to Valentia. Armorslayers are about the only fun to be had at the moment though.

We're on a bit of a time crunch, so despite the fact that those of us who were sitting around in the castle have just reunited with the rest of the Shepherds, there's no time to talk. Our days are spent in continuous training and planning. It's not just learning to use the specialized weapons that we're dealing with. The Shepherds are also getting back into the peak physical condition that has somewhat laxed in the two year grace period.

Or in my case, getting into peak condition for the first time. It sucks. It's all exercise and drilling and exercise and tactical training and exercise, did I mention exercise? Because there's exercise. There's also very little free time.

Suddenly, it's very convenient to have a partner who _doesn't_ have to deal with as much of this stuff as I do, because while I'm constantly aching and exhausted, Nathan is much less tired and makes my life easier by dealing with all the small tasks that I'd normally have to deal with myself like sewing holes in my clothes, sharpening my sword, all the basic stuff.

Also, he gives massages, and I never realized how much I needed them until my muscles started to cramp and ache all the time.

Nathan has other duties he's been assigned (learning every auxiliary task and chore one could possibly do around a campsite, a crash course in logistics, and a few other things), but he's still technically part of the military so a certain level of physical training is required and he joins us for lots of the exercises.

Honestly I was expecting a lot more complaining from Nathan, but there's surprisingly little. I mean, if I _ask_ then he'll happily vent and spit metaphorical acid, but otherwise he doesn't complain. He settles for thin-lipped glares behind people's backs instead.

"On an objective level, I absolutely don't blame Frederick and Chrom for drilling us. It's necessary." He explains to me once. "On the subjective level though, they're the people who make me, and more importantly _you_ , feel like shit on a daily basis, so you bet I'm going to glare… but nothing more. Again, necessity. Not their fault."

Actually, it's that explanation that gets me to stop mocking antagonizing Frederick myself. As satisfying as it is to take cheap jabs at the person making me feel terrible, I did decide to be a Shepherd. This is on me.

Fuck your fitness hour though Frederick. Fall in pegasus shit.

###

"What do you want?" Inigo asks in confusion. Pretty justified, since Nathan walked into his room (his, Yarne's, Owain's, and Laurent's actually) "Who are you?"

"To make you and offer you can't- or totally can I guess- refuse!" Nathan says as dramatically as his nervousness will allow. For some reason he insisted on talking to Inigo by himself first, without me to facilitate their introduction. I'm currently watching by peeking through the doorway. Nathan actually tried to shoo me off entirely, saying it'd be even more nerve-wracking if I was watching, but there's no way I'm not going to watch this.

Also, if Inigo starts being mean, I want to be able to yell at him.

"Are you a friend of Owain, by chance?" Inigo asks.

"Nope!" Nathan says, keeping a (nervous) smile on his face. "I'm here to offer you something incredible!"

"Really now…"

"Well, okay, I'm here to offer you something to pass the time since there aren't a lot of options around here at the moment." Nathan admits. "I have a stockpile of games, and I was wondering if you might want to borrow some of them."

That peaks Inigo's interest. Free time is precious at the moment, but there also really isn't much to spend it on. The Shepherds can't really leave the area because we can't have too many people knowing the Prince's personal squad is preparing for war, so that means not going to town and flirting with random girls for Inigo. "What games?"

"Probably none you've ever heard of." Nathan says. "But I've got a whole scale from strategy to luck! Memory games, strategy games, dice games, card games! Mostly strategy games actually, but I have a least a few of the others."

Huh, I guess Nathan worked on a pitch for his game library idea. Also, this is not at all what I was expecting as an introduction. Actually, he seems to be _avoiding_ a proper introduction.

"What makes you think I haven't heard of them?"

"They're not from around here." Nathan says.

"I've been to Chon'sin, I might know some."

Nathan lightly rolls his eyes at that. Chon'sin isn't going to help. "Does Chess sound familiar?"

"Yes."

Nathan balks. I forgot I introduced Inigo to chess at some point. His memory is better than I thought. He hated chess and only played a few times, but he still remembers it. "Really?"

"Yes." Inigo says, and leans forward. "You're Nathan, aren't you?"

I guess that was a logical conclusion if he remembered chess. Who else would offer him that after all?

Nathan decides to push on regardless. "That's me! I have more than chess if you want. Even have instructions written out for everything!"

I can see Inigo trying to decide what to do about this. Judging by the way his shoulders sag, I think he decided he doesn't have the energy to try and interrogate Nathan at the moment. Yay for training? "You said dice games?"

"Yeah! Did Morgan tell you about Yahtzee?"

"She mentioned it."

"Well it's mostly luck…" Nathan says, and launches into a quick explanation of how the game works. It's amusing watching Nathan try to "sell" the game to Inigo, as if Inigo won't already be happy just to have some half-decent entertainment. "You're going to need other people to play it with, of course. It's not a single-player game."

"I'll take it." Inigo nods.

" _Borrow_ it." Nathan says. "I'm offering a rent, not a purchase. Though if you want to buy it I could figure out a price."

Inigo rolls his eyes. "I'll rent, thanks. Are you charging for that too?"

"Yes… but not for you. Gotta bribe Morgan's family somehow." Nathan says cheekily.

"Genius." Inigo says sarcastically. "Well, let's see this game."

"Just let me fetch it."

Nathtan walks out of the room, scowls a bit and pokes me in the nose when he sees me outside the door, and fetches the game from his room. After making sure Inigo understands the rules once more, Nathan beats a hasty retreat to end their first interaction on a half-decent note.

"Was that the plan all along?" I ask when Nathan steps out of the room. "Bribe my family with games?"

"No." He says, smiling. "But, I mean, if I have so many games I might as well take advantage right? Why try to win them over with my personality and skills when I can bribe them instead?"

I grin in return. "Genius."

"I know."

###

"This was _normal_?" I groan.

"I know, right?" Severa complains. "It's just like being back in the past! Nothing but marching and fighting and more marching! It sucks!"

"I remember the days when my muscles didn't constantly feel like molten lava." I say.

"And I remember when I could actually make my hair look _nice_ and not have it be soaked with sweat ten minutes later." Severa says. "And when I could actually go shopping, or actually carry around more than three sets of clothes."

"And it's only going to get worse once we reach Valentia." I say. "Joy."

"Stupid wars, stupid Grima." Severa grumbles. "I can't say I'm surprised, but it still sucks."

"Yeah." I nod. "Hopefully we'll make quick work of Walhart and can go home right away."

Severa shakes her head. "It's never that simple, even if we have inside information."

"Yeah." I sigh. "I know."

"It's worse that everyone else seems okay with it." Severa grumbles. "Kjelle is actually _happy_ about all this training!"

"You'd rather everyone complain?"

"Yes! It feels like everyone is just ignoring how shitty this is." Severa says. "We complained about our situation all the time in the future."

"That… sounds really annoying actually."

"It was, but it's better than just smiling and pretending everything is okay." Severa says.

"No one's doing that Severa. I don't think I've seen _anyone_ smiling, not even Lissa, and certainly no one is pretending this is fun." I say. "Well, except maybe Kjelle and Sully, but they're freaks."

"Yeah, yeah…" Severa sighs. "I know, I just hate it. I can't believe I'm _willingly_ going back to war."

"What other choice is there?"

"Anything else. Literally anything else!" Severa almost shouts. "I could… I dunno, do fashion, get a job, something that isn't running headlong at people trying to kill me with spears and magic!"

"But you're doing it anyway."

"Yeah." Severa quiets, suddenly looking very tired. Not physically tired, more emotionally tired. "Yeah, I am."

"Why? The Shepeherds could manage without you." I say. I'm not trying to be rude, that's just a fact. There are only a few people in the Shepherds who I could say are absolutely vital, and beyond that the Shepherds just need a certain amount of troops to be able to function. One person, or even five people, less really wouldn't change much. "You could go back to Ylisstol and not deal with this."

"But then who's going to look out for Mom and Dad?" She asks. "Who's going to do that as well as me?"

I can understand that sentiment. Half the reason I'm joining this war is to help Father. I know I can take some of the burden off him, and I know I can help the war end earlier than it would otherwise. "It's weird, isn't it?"

"I want to protect my parents, that's not weird!" Severa snaps.

"No, no I mean, it's weird that we're not really fighting to stop Walhart, are we?" I say. "Our personal stake is wholly independent of who our opponent is."

"I mean, I don't like Walhart-"

"But if your parents weren't a part of the war, would you be?" I ask.

"I-" Severa hesitates. "I don't know. I'm not sure I'd want to throw myself on the line if I knew my parents would be safe otherwise."

"But Grima." I say.

"Yeah." Severa agrees quietly. "But Grima. For that reason alone, I think I'd still be here, with or without my parents in the war. Someone has to tip the balance, or else we'll end up like my world."

For someone who's been nothing but bitchy for as long as I've known her, that's a surprisingly selfless motive. "What about when Grima's dead?"

"I'm out." Severa huffs. "I'm not sticking around in the Shepherds once Grima is gone. Even when _this_ crazy training isn't happening, I'm tired of doing nothing but stabbing Risen and marching all over the place. The military isn't for me, thank you very much."

Yeah, I get it. "Circumstances are a bitch sometimes."

Severa nods. "More than sometimes."

Our conversation tapers off, but the following silence is comfortable, friendly even. At least, it is until Frederick shouts for everyone to pick up the pace, and instead of marching we're now sprinting and panting like dogs.

Fuck training.

###

Part of tactical training involves mock battles, and I hope I don't have to tell you that it's nerve-wracking. It's one thing to be Father's backup and assistant, it's another to be training to take command of the Shepherds if needed. Yet, that's exactly what happens. I'm not just given command of the future children. The teams are divided up to give each team an even mix of everything.

Archers get these flat-headed arrows that look ridiculous and probably aren't as aerodynamic, but what are you gonna do. Can't have people using actual arrows.

I'm also against Father, which is bad, because Father has way more experience than me.

It will be a legendary battle! Genius against genius! Father against daughter! Both of our egos are on the line, not to mention our dignity! All the Shepherds are involved! (Father mentioned that point multiple times for some reason)

I'm really setting myself up for a hard loss here, aren't I?

The goal of the battle is to defeat the opposing tactician. The battlefield is uneven. My side has heavy forest, and Father's side is much lighter on the trees with a decent amount of rocky terrain.

None of the terrain is particularly conducive for cavaliers, so I have Stahl dismount. Father got Sully _and_ Frederick, which seems unfair to me, but I can take solace in that their mounts won't be particularly useful either.

I've also got Lon'qu, so I'm not lacking a one man army myself.

My main concern is actually Gaius. I'm very aware he could sneak around everyone to try and take me out. That's why I'm keeping Kellam around me. Fight sneak with sneak!

I have a significant disadvantage being in the thick forest in that I can't use high ground to watch the battle because of all the trees in the way. I have to use magic to communicate with my commanders because of it, and I rely on a small board and figurines that I move around as I get reports and give orders to keep track of the battlefield.

Ranged fighters to the left, guarded by Vaike and Lon'qu. The other melee fighters flank from the right. I have two pegasus knights (Cordelia and Cynthia) so they're going to fly around back and try to take out the enemy mages. This is made easier by my side having the only archer.

Right? No, wait, didn't Donnel pick up the bow? I think so. We didn't all come together before each team went to their respective spots, we were individually told to meet at X location. That means I have to use purely my memory to recall what each person on Father's team can do and just what Shepherds are a part of his team based on who _I_ have.

Rather than sit in the back and hide, I hang out close to the other ranged fighters. It's not that I don't trust Kellam, I simply want some additional safety.

The plan immediately goes sideways, because Father apparently decided to go way to the right, so it's my flanking force that makes first contact, which isn't great.

I quickly shout for my fliers to start flying around our foes. It's going to take longer than I wanted because they're essentially at the rear of our formation now, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I also have my backline rearrange themselves to stand behind my flanking force, which I suppose is my frontline now.

I can sort of see what's going on through the trees, but I'm mostly relying on Laurent and Lon'qu's reports to tell what's going on.

The most obvious issue is that Gaius, Sumia, and Father's backline haven't been seen at all with the exception of Lissa who is healing up Father's frontline. Where is that backline? I don't want Cordelia and Cynthia to end up doing nothing because Father is doing something weird with his backline.

There's a shifting in the brush, and a second later Kellam dashes to my left side and raises his shield (while I duck and brandish my sword). A moment later several blunted daggers bounce off his shield, and Kellam responds with a javelin. Gaius jumps out of a bush to avoid the attack, and the two of them become embroiled in a duel of daggers and javelins.

I brandish my tome, prepared to chip in, only to spot Sumia flying overhead, realize I'm outmatched, and beat a hasty retreat while yelling at my backline to help Kellam.

After all, if _I'm_ defeated then we lose. I don't want to abandon Kellam to the wolves, but I need to stay alive. Also, Kellam has heavy armor and can keep Gaius and hopefully Sumia occupied for a while. That's part of why I chose him to guard me, he makes a great wall to delay anyone trying to get to me.

I manage to get myself on the other side of the battlefield, well away from Gaius and Sumia. I can see Noire has peeled off from the backline and is shooting into the forest. Good. She must be helping Kellam.

Gotta focus. Father's backline is still missing, Lon'qu is reporting that we're winning the ongoing battle, and the sneak attack was foiled. Objectively, I think this is going well. If we can route Father's frontline before his backline ever shows itself, regardless of where it shows up, we should win by virtue of sheer numbers.

"Morgan!" A familiar voice calls. "Mooorgan!"

"Nathan?" Why is he here? This is a training exercise! Is he lost? "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, there you are!" He shouts, stepping out from around a tall tree. He looks decidedly nervous, but puts a smile on his face as he approaches. "I've spent nearly ten minutes looking for you!"

"Nathan, this is a battlefield, this really isn't the time." I say quickly.

"But it's important!"

"Hurry then!" I say impatiently. "Just say it and leave!" I know I'm being rude, but seriously, this is _not_ the time.

"Your father is looking for you."

"Nathan, I'm _fighting_ him right now, if he needs to talk to me afterward-"

"No." Nathan says, and grabs my wrist. A shit-eating grin crosses his face, and my heart drops into my stomach as I realize what's happening. Nathan's on the other team. "I mean right now."

With my sword and tomes in their holders, I'm reduced to grappling with Nathan to try and get him off me. I try and shout for help, and a few people on my side start running over, but it's going to take them a minute to get in range.

"I didn't even know you were participating!" I shout in annoyance. I brute-force my wrist out of his grip while he tries to kick my shins. "That's unfair!"

"Your father did say that _every_ Shepherd was participating." Nathan says smugly. He's taking great amusement from this. "Now shh, submit like a good girlfriend."

"This is not the time for jokes Nathan!" I grunt as I try and fail to get a good grab on him. It looks like some of his physical training has paid off, because while I'm undoubtedly stronger and more skilled than him, he's not instantly losing either, and time is a precious resource at the moment.

"I disagree, it's the perfect time!" Nathan says very loudly. He suddenly stops trying to dodge my grabs, and instead body-slams me so that we both tumble into the dirt. I quickly manage to roll on top of him and pin his arms above his head. "Honestly Morgan. I know you're a lewd girl, but couldn't you save this for a better moment?"

I'm genuinely getting annoyed. Can he not take this seriously at least? "Nathan-"

"You know, when you're not about to get shot." He interrupts cheerfully.

Something moving very fast smacks into my back, followed by a few flares of training magic. I glare murderously down at Nathan's mad grin while I raise my hands in surrender.

Turning my head, I can see exactly where Father's backline is. It's currently forming a semi-circle around me, with all their weapons and magic pointed my way. Father strides to the forefront as I stand up to meet him.

"You used Nathan as _bait_." I say accusingly, as soon as he's close.

"And it worked perfectly." Father says, looking very pleased with himself.

"I didn't know he was participating!"

"I warned you that _every_ Shepherd was going to be a part of this." Father says. "And he's a Shepherd."

"You…" I stop myself before actually cursing at him. I am _livid_ ; partially at him, and partially at myself for falling for something so obvious. Nathan isn't an idiot, of course he wouldn't be here unless he was actually part of the exercise. Wait, that means- "Your plan relied on me being an idiot!"

"And it worked." Father says. "Didn't it?"

Father, I love you, but I also hate you so much right now.

"It's not a plan I can use twice." Father shrugs. "But I might as well take every advantage I can get."

"I am going to destroy you next time." I seethe.

"Oh, it won't be that easy." Father chuckles. "But I look forward to seeing you try."

There are some other things that need to be done today, going over the mock battle in meticulous detail and analyzing our plans for one (so I can hear exactly how Father made me dance like a puppet), but first is dinner, and that means walking back to the barracks.

Me and Nathan walk in silence for a few minutes. I'm fuming over the events that just took place. I was stupid, I was so stupid, but Nathan made a mockery of me! He was smiling and joking the whole time! Even if he was bait, he could have at least taken it seriously!

I'm making a big deal out of this, but really it was all on me. I know it was all on me. Nathan's joking was obviously not intended to be malicious. He just thought the situation was funny, and with hindsight it will probably be funny to me too, but right now I'm mad.

"Morgan." Nathan says hesitantly.

"What?" I snap, glaring at him. I breath deeply through my nose to calm myself a bit before uttering my next words. "I'm angry Nathan. If this is a joke, please don't."

"It's not." He promises. "Just, uh… here."

He reaches up and pulls some leaves out of my hair, as well as brushing some dirt off my face. He finishes by standing on his toes to kiss my forehead. I glare at him all the while, but the gesture does admittedly reduce my anger a bit.

"You should have heard Robin explaining the plan beforehand. He drilled into us how we couldn't let down our guard or you'd find a way to rout us." Nathan murmurs. He offers his hand or arm, and after a moment of further glaring I huff and loop my arm through his. "You were a threat. Robin was quite worried you'd find some solution and clean us up."

I know what Nathan is doing. He's soothing my bruised ego… and I like it.

"Nathan, don't go putting words in my mouth!" Father calls.

"It's true!" He shouts back.

"I was not worried!"

"Oh, sure, then what was that whole bit when you were warning us about hidden ambushes and warning us that we'd have to adapt on the fly?" Nathan says. "Or how you kept checking in every five seconds to see if I'd found her?"

"Or how you kept muttering that we were in big trouble?" Nowi chirps. "That sounds like worry to me!"

Father grumbles something about traitors and picks up his pace to walk next to Chrom. Nathan grins and bumps his shoulder against mine.

"He was worried. You're very scary." He teases.

"As I should be." I huff. My anger is largely gone now. Nathan knows how to cheer me up. "And that includes you! I expect my boyfriend to know respect!"

Nathan laughs a bit. "Maybe let's save that for when we're not constantly exhausted."

It takes me a moment to understand what he means. "And you call _me_ a lewd girl."

I walk into the mess hall in a significantly better mood, though the analysis of the battle after dinner is still a lesson in humility for me.

###

"Do you think I should come?"

I pause in packing up my things and look at Nathan. "You mean come on the mission?"

"Yeah."

"We're killing Risen."

"I know."

"We're not going to be setting up camp or anything."

"I know."

"You'd have to fight."

"I know."

"Wasn't your whole deal that you _didn't_ want to put your life on the line?" I say.

"It was, and still is." Nathan nods. "But, uh, I was thinking… we're going into a war zone, right? And I've always been a coward when confronted with actual combat, so even if I don't plan to get involved in a fight I still need to be ready for one. More so than just knowing how to stab and shoot I mean. If I panic when we get ambushed, then it doesn't matter that I technically know how to fight, does it?"

"That's true." I agree. Inwardly I'm much more excited and kinda proud for him, but I keep it contained. That wouldn't be helpful right now. "And this is a relatively low-stakes way to become accustomed to combat."

"E-Exactly." Nathan says. "So, uh…"

"I'm sure Father and Chrom will allow it." I encourage him. He doesn't train with weapons as often as the rest of us, but he has basic competence. It helps that his crossbow is easy to use. "Pack up quick, we're going in literally a few minutes."

"Already prepared." He says, showing a backpack all ready to go.

Just as I said, Father and Chrom are willing to allow Nathan to come along. A wide grin crosses Chrom's face when Nathan explains his reasoning, and he pats Nathan on the back and praises his "bravery" and "heeding the call to duty".

Nathan nods politely at all this, but his pursed lips are not only from nervousness. I can tell he doesn't like Chrom's words at all. Father just nods at Nathan's explanation and points him to his place in the marching order. I'm not sure if Father is annoyed, or if he simply realizes praise is not at all helpful here. Both aren't out of the question.

Father also gives me a pointed reminder that I have to remain focused and can't be looking over my shoulder at Nathan in battle. Also, Nathan is going under _his_ command, not mine, for similar reasons.

From my end the battle is rather uninteresting. It's Risen. Simple, low-level Risen. We mop the floor with them. I could go into the minutia of how I sent Stahl here and Noire there, but… it's Risen. There might be fifty Risen, but I honestly think maybe six or seven Shepherds could have taken on the entire hoard if they needed to.

It's a new struggle to focus knowing Nathan is off somewhere else, potentially in danger. It was easy to focus when we were travelling and had to fight because _I_ was in charge of his safety, but now I just have to cross my fingers and hope everything is alright.

It's an uncomfortable feeling. I don't like not being able to come to Nathan's defence if he needs it. I push aside the feeling as much as I can, but it eats at the back of my mind.

Of course, when everything is over, Nathan is perfectly unharmed. He's nervous and twitchy, but unharmed.

And so starts Nathan (reluctantly) volunteering to come on Risen extermination missions whenever they arise. It's also the start of him requesting to get experience in actual melee combat during our mock battles, because other than that first battle where he was bait for me, he's been put in an archer role. He starts becoming more involved in weapons training, and soon he's just as tired and physically exhausted as I usually am.

This naturally culminates in Father suggesting Nathan take a melee role during Risen extermination, and Nathan agrees. This is right near the end of our training period. The various weapons Father ordered are almost complete, and the Shepherds will be moving out soon.

I can tell Father is taking precautions for Nathan. Nathan is put alongside all our strongest fighters like Chrom and Lon'qu and Frederick. I refrain from mentioning what I've noticed to Nathan. We don't need him feeling like a burden because he was specially accounted for. This is just a backup measure anyways. Father wouldn't be _allowing_ Nathan at the front if he wasn't relatively sure he'd perform to a satisfactory level.

I even get to fight near him this time. The Risen group is small enough that pulling all the Shepherds wasn't necessary, so we aren't splitting command between me and Father.

There are a dozen Risen. Most of them look like they were hunters once. They've got axes and a few bows and no armor. They're going to be slow and clumsy and telegraphed and easy to cut down. Nothing too dangerous. We _should_ be able to get through this without an injury.

We have seven Shepherds: Chrom, Frederick, Lon'qu, Nathan, me, Father, and Maribelle. More than enough to deal with the Risen.

Father and I go about dealing with the archers quickly. We've cut down all four of them before our front line has even met the enemy. From there, me and Father intentionally "miss" a few shots. This mission has a very specific purpose after all, it wouldn't do for us to take out all the Risen before Nathan actually fights.

I'm plenty nervous watching this, even if that's stupid of me. I've sparred with Nathan. I _know_ he can deal with this, but the last time he got up and personal with a Risen he got stabbed in the shoulder and had a panic attack, so sue me if I'm anxious.

Nathan is at the middle of the formation, right where Frederick and Chrom can step in and take over if something goes wrong. I watch as Nathan carefully baits out an axe swing from a Risen, then capitalizes on the excessive follow-through and swiftly jams his blade into the thing's face. Good.

Two more Risen target Nathan, and I can see how Frederick and Chrom intentionally occupy themselves with other Risen. We've covered two-on-one combat in training, and Nathan is clearly following some of those guidelines. He shimmies to one side so one Risen is mostly blocking the other, baits out that predictable slow swing most basic Risen do, and stabs it. He then repeats the process for the next one.

It's not the most high-stakes fight, but it's a successful fight. Nathan didn't get stabbed, so I'm counting this as a complete victory.

Nathan becomes a regular on simple Risen exterminations, even in a melee role, if purely for the sake of forcing familiarity with combat.

###

You know what the best thing about leaving Ylisse is? Free time. Yes, actually leaving for war gives me _more_ free time than I had while training.

I mean, we're also leaving for war, which is awful, but I'm trying to ignore that. Actively trying to ignore it actually. I'd do bits with Nathan, but there are simply too many people around that we can't be loud and weird without it getting in the way.

So instead, I have a long, quiet conversation with Nathan, the likes we haven't been able to have in months at this point.

"You're not worried?" I ask in surprise. "Out of anyone, I would have expected you to be worried about the whole 'going to war' thing."

"I am in the very general sense." Nathan says. "But, I mean… so you know the Ylisse-Plegia war that just happened?"

"Just" meaning two years ago, but… "Yes"

"Your father led the Shepherds to victory _without a single loss_." Nathan emphasizes. "Not a single Shepherd loss I mean. He also saved Emmeryn, which is impossible in the game. He also now has foreknowledge about specific battles that will happen in the future. I honestly think our victory over Valm, and even over Grima, is a foregone conclusion."

Huh. That's way more confidence in our situation that I expected.

"I am honestly more worried about my life after Grima's defeat than Grima himself." Nathan says. "That's part of why I've been putting more focus on other skills rather than fighting. I think it's unnecessary for me to fight, because I have full faith that the Shepherds will annihilate Grima."

That's strangely reassuring. Usually Nathan is incredibly nervous, yet he has full confidence that we'll win.

"Also, the Shepherds have you, and you're objectively the best person ever." Nathan says.

That makes me smile. "You know it!"

"Uh, incidentally though…" He says, lowering his voice. "We should be getting Lucina soon, and I'm mildly worried that we won't get Henry seeing as we don't need to borrow Plegian boats."

"Henry is the crazy one, right?"

"Yes. One of the most powerful dark mages in Plegia, apparently." Nathan murmurs. "He's not vital, but I'm slightly concerned we won't be getting him."

"Mmm… maybe we could try and send him a message?"

"Someone we've never met?" He says.

"Sure. I mean, at worst he just doesn't listen to us, right? No harm in trying. If we send the message soon, he even might be able to meet us at port in Ferox."

"That's a good idea." Nathan agrees. "Uh… do you know how to do that?"

"Yep."

"Oh." Nathan blinks. "Did you learn that from Miriel too?"

"Yep!"

"Wow… you're incredible."

That's actually a very simple thing to learn, but I'm not about to tell him that. Instead I preen myself. "I know! I'm amazing."

"Terribly smart."

"You know it!"

"Not so cute anymore though." Nathan says. "Unfortunately, you're too attractive to be cute."

"Oh, no, so terrible." I say, smiling. "I'm too hot to be cute. Whatever will I do?"

"Milk it for all it's worth, knowing you." Nathan says. He gives me a one-armed hug as we walk. "Anyways-"

"Don't change the subject! More compliments!" I pout.

Nathan rolls his eyes. "So what do you need for this messaging spell?"

"Just enough power to manage the distance." I say. "So, basically nothing. Just time and energy. I could do it when we stop for the night."

"Oh, uh, good."

"So _now_ you can give me more compliments." I joke, and squeeze his arm in mine. "Unless there's something else."

"We might want to consider contacting Lucina too, if she doesn't show up."

"Okay." I lean forward. "So _now_ -"

A smirk crosses his face. "Oh, and-"

"Nathaaan."

"Desperate for compliments, aren't you?" He teases gently, and kisses my cheek. "As if I don't give you enough already."

Well yeah, but more is always nice. "How else am I supposed to distract myself from the fact we're heading to war?"

"Read a book, play a game, talk with friends-"

"That was rhetoric Nathan."

"Ah."

"But thank you anyways. Maybe I'll have to borrow some of your games if you're not around to entertain me."

"I've actually had some people rent them!" Nathan says, suddenly very eager. "I mean beyond Inigo, and I'm actually getting _profit_!"

His glee is almost childish. This is clearly new to him. "How much profit?"

"Well, uh, not much at the moment. About a silver total." He admits. "But I think it'll be more profitable once people have more than, like, one hour of free time at a time."

"Great." I smile. He's happy with himself. That's good. Usually he's quite self-depreciating.

"A-And it's something I can transfer over to _after_ the war!" Nathan says. "This can be a job! I won't have to settle for something dull and terrible, or rely on you…"

"And what's wrong with relying on me?" I pout.

"I can't rely on you to pay for my life, Morgan."

"Sure you could." I (somewhat) joke. "I wouldn't mind a house-husband."

That makes him blush quite fiercely. Maybe he didn't realize that I was joking? Ah well, I don't mind either way.

"But I'm glad you have something you feel you can build on for the future." I say genuinely. "I know that was one of your major fears, right? Not having anything to support yourself with?"

"Yeah." He mumbles. "It's thanks to your encouragement I could do it. I mean, that goes for most things in my life, but…"

"Any time Nathan." I hum. "You know how you can pay me back?"

"How? Anything."

"Compliments." I chirp.

Nathan rolls his eyes to the sky. "Alright, fine. Greedy girl."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment Nathan!"

"Alright, alright…"

###

"Hi! I'm Morgan! I'm objectively the best person ever!" I say, giving what seems to be my standard introduction at this point.

"Hi!" The cheery voice responds through the spell, directly into my head. "I'm Henry! I don't get a lot of people talking to me out of thin are! Are you dead?"

"Not yet! I'm using a message spell."

"Darn, I was hoping it was a ghost." Henry says. "Unless you're a ghost using a message spell?"

"Nope."

"Aww…"

"I'm messaging you with an offer actually! I've heard you enjoy a bit of chaos."

"Nya ha ha! That I do! A few spells here, a few dismemberments there, it's all great fun!" Henry chirps. "You're a fan too?"

"A bit less so." I say. "But I'll admit an intellectual fascination with a good curse."

"So you don't kill people by making their brain swell until it explodes their head?"

He has a spell for that? Yikes. "Nope, but we have an offer for someone who can! That's you!"

"Okay!" Henry says, matching my faux-eager tone. "Let's hear it!

"We would like to extend an offer to you to join a war against a tyrant." I say. "We could use someone with your power, and we know you love a good war! We also know you've helped Ylisse before, which is why we're asking you in the first place!"

"Ooh, a war? You mean the Valm war?"

So he's heard of it. "Yes!"

"Ylisse isn't involved in that."

"Not officially."

Laughter erupts from Henry upon me speaking those words. "Sounds like fun! I'm in!"

I blink in surprise. "Just like that?"

"Just like that! It's been too long since I've had an excuse to make people explode!" Henry chirps. "Just point me in the right direction boss! Nya ha ha!"

If Nathan didn't know Henry was a Shepherd, there's no way I'd be alright with bringing this guy along. He's a nut. "Can you make it to the west coast of Ferox? We're heading to Pinkwood."

Weird town name, I know. Apparently it has something to do with it being the main trade port with Chon'sin, so they named it after Chon'sinese cherry blossom trees, the wood of which used to be a common import (not that the wood is pink, just that some cherry blossoms have famously pink petals). It's a very out of place and cute name compared to other Feroxi towns names like Wolfwind and Blacksnow, but hey, whatever floats their boat.

"Can do!" Henry says. "Ooh, are we going to have to ride a boat?"

"Yep."

"Yaaay! Boats!" Henry cheers. "I've always wanted to ride a boat!"

You're weird Henry, and you're going to be very disappointed. It's boring. "Well, you'll get your chance! We'll be there in a month and a bit. Don't be late!"

"Okay!"

I end the spell, and before Nathan (who is sitting beside me) can ask I say, "He's in."

"Thank Naga." Nathan breathes. "That's one variable accounted for."

"And now Lucina." I say, preparing another spell. "Fingers crossed this works."

"I wish I could talk to her." Nathan mumbles. "I could probably convince her…"

"But you can't." I say. "The spell doesn't work that way."

"I know…"

"Now shush. I'm spelling."

"You mean casting a-"

"Shh!"

I cast the spell, focusing hard on the name of my target and the vague physical description I've been given. So long as there's no one else that fits that criteria, I should lock on to Lucina no problem.

A mental tingle lets me know the spell has successfully locked onto _someone_ , so I start talking. "Lucina! Hi! I'm Morgan! The best tactician ever, objectively speaking!"

"What is this?" The voice, female, sharp, distrusting, responds. "I've never heard of that name, how do you know who I am?"

"Outside information!" I chirp, recalling the term Nathan liked to use in the past. "And by that I mean an outworlder with knowledge of your worlds. His name is Nathan, he's right next to me actually. He can't hear you, nor you him, but he's here."

"Prove it."

How the heck am I- ah, wait, this is easy. I can't prove that Nathan is here, but I can prove that I have knowledge no one should have of her. "You've been masquerading as a masked man named Marth for the last few years. You saved Chrom, who is your father, and Lissa from a burning forest and Risen. You fought against the Shepherds in the Feroxi Khanship tournament, and you helped protect Emmeryn during an assassination plot."

There's quiet for a moment, then: "You're correct. I… I suppose I must believe you then."

"Cool! Don't worry, we're good guys." I say. "We're with the Shepherds right now actually."

"I see."

"And the thing is… this is going to sound a bit crazy, but _you're_ supposed to be here too."

"What?" Lucina sounds somewhat shocked, or is that offence? I can't tell. "Why?"

"Because that's how it works in the game." I say. "That's why Nathan knows all that stuff about you. This world was a game, and he knows how it plays out, roughly. A few things have changed, but not enough that you shouldn't be here. The other kids are already here, minus Gerome who's in Rosanne. You're the last one."

"Everyone else is there?" Lucina murmurs. "I-I see. I didn't realize…"

"So, uh, we're just entering Ferox. I'm not sure how close you are exactly, but you can join up if you want. The whole "children from the future" secret is out. I'm sure your parents would like to meet you too."

Lucina takes a deep breath, and exhales. "Morgan, was it?"

"That's me! Best tactician in the world!"

"You say your friend has knowledge of this world, yes?"

"Yep!"

"If… if I join, will the world survive?" Lucina asks. "There is so much that needs to be done. The gemstones, Walhart, grimleal… will everything still be managed, if I join?"

I parrot these words to Nathan, just in case he knows something I don't. I'm also fairly sure he's going to be able to phrase the answer to this better than me. He gives me the response, and I attempt to repeat it word for word. "Nathan says, and I quote: "Ordinarily, things do not go smoothly. Emmeryn still dies, Grima is still resurrected, but Chrom awakens the Falchion, and Grima is defeated. This world seems to be better than the game. Better than what I would expect. Emmeryn has survived, and now, with me, the Shepherds have detailed future knowledge of upcoming events and battles. I can't guarantee things will go flawlessly, they rarely do, but I can reassure you that from everything I've seen and everything I know, Grima _should_ be defeated rather soundly. That assumes, of course, you join the Shepherds, as that was supposed to happen around this point in time."

Nathan is nodding. I conveyed everything accurately.

"Will Father survive?"

"He should, bar something unforeseen." I say. "He's supposed to survive the backstabbing that got him killed in your time."

"I-I see." Lucina whispers. "I will consider your words, Morgan. To where are you headed, at the moment?"

"We're going to Pinkwood Ferox, a western port." I say. "We're just entering Ferox at the moment. We're going under the name of the Bluescale Mercenary Company because of some political bullshit."

"Many thanks." Lucina murmurs. "I will speak to you some other time. Goodnight."

"G'night!"

I break the spell, and turn to Nathan, who awaits the news eagerly. "She'll think about it. Maybe she'll meet us at port."

"I suppose that's good enough." Nathan says.

"Yeah." I say, and rub my eyes. "Aaand now I'm tired. She must have been pretty far away. That took as much out of me as messaging Henry."

"Gonna sleep?"

"Mmm." I mumble, laying down on my bedroll. "Wake me for dinner?"

"Of course." He says. He leans down to kiss my forehead. "Sleep well."

I hum vaguely in response and drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finding I have too many threads I want to touch on, yet no good way to touch on them. Bleh. Lucina will be around soon, as will Henry.
> 
> I'm also having this internal debate on what I should do with travel time. On one hand, I'm aware this story is slow. I'm used to being slow, that's always how I've written stories because it gives me plenty of time to do character interaction (and that's arguably what I do best) but we've had twenty two chapters with very little happening from a greater plot perspective. Lots of prep with little payoff. That's a reason to blast through the travel time and get us right to Valm.
> 
> On the other hand… this story is not about the war, or even Grima. It never has been, and never will be. It's always been about Nathan (and Morgan, to a slightly lesser extent) figuring out what the hell they're doing in this world (sorry to you people that don't like the lack of combat or apparent plot progress, that's literally not what this story is about). Fast-tracking to the Valm war is not going to help that. Yet, I can only get so much out of characters bumming around camps and towns, and it's taken forever (waaaay too long, in hindsight) to get Nathan to the point he needs to be in order to fill the role in the Shepherds I intended for him to have and I don't want to mash too much of his new role into the next few chapters.
> 
> It's a mess. I'm still having fun with the story despite its many, glaring, serious flaws, and drastic departure from its original tone, and I've definitely learned a thing or two about protagonists from this experimental story (mostly pacing, pacing is a problem), but it's a mess and I'm under no illusions that it isn't.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Cynthia's pegasus had a name, but I can't find it anywhere. Maybe I've just read so much fanfiction that I think it had a name, because the name I think it had was "Snowflake" which I've certainly seen in other stories.
> 
> Well, if it is a name someone else came up with, I'm using it too. I like it.
> 
> Nathan is our POV character. Lots of talking in this one.

"It's called being busy Morgan."

"But you weren't busy before!" She pouts.

"Yes, I was. You were just _more_ busy." I say as I unload a crate. My strength is much higher than it was a few months ago, so this is a relatively easy task. I can't say I'm fond of all this though. Having muscles feels… uncomfortable, even if they're useful. "Because you were training all the time. I'm doing the same thing I was back in training, whereas you have less to do now."

"But that's not fair." Morgan pouts. When I put down the crate, Morgan embraces me from behind, stopping me from moving to the next one. "I want my boyfriend!"

"I'm very flattered, but seriously Morgan, you can wait until after I'm done everything." I say, and tilt my head back to look at her. "We still have multiple hours of free time on the regular, you can wait."

"No." Morgan huffs. She leans down and nuzzles my neck. "Now."

I silently roll my eyes. I suppose out of all the interruptions to my work, this is certainly the most pleasant. "If you want me to be finished sooner, you could help."

"But I'm a delicate lady!" Morgan gasps sarcastically.

"Bullshit. You're stronger than me in just about every way. You're also too crude to be a lady."

Morgan scrunches up her face at me. " _Someone_ doesn't want fun tonight, if they're insulting their girlfriend."

"And you make my point." I retort, amused. "And we both know that's an empty threat."

"Well yeah, but I'm trying to play a part here!" Morgan says.

"Besides, didn't you once say something about taking care of me?" I tease. "Shouldn't you be helping me on that basis?"

"Oh, sure, take advantage of my good will." Morgan pouts.

"Seriously though, I have to work, can you let me go?" I say. "I promise to play with you later."

"Ooh~!"

"Morgan…"

"Come on, just let me be lewd _once_ without shutting me down!"

"I'm not shutting you down, I'm figuratively rolling my eyes at you." I tease. "Big difference."

Morgan grumbles fondly, and pulls me around to face her for a moment. For a moment I assume it's another joke or part of the banter, but instead Morgan forcefully kisses me for a few seconds before releasing me. "Fine, what are we doing?"

"What?" I ask, a bit dazed.

"You said if I helped it would go faster. What are we doing?"

Morgan seldom lets me forget how lucky I am. "Well first…"

###

It's probably none of my business… but what is Nah doing? Why is she peering around the side of a cart?

I'm currently on my way to do inventory as my last task of the day, and I'm not under any real time pressure (as long as the report is in by sundown, and it's not even dinner yet thanks to Morgan helping with a few tasks, though now she's off doing a bit of practice for tactics while I do inventory), so I have the time to stop and ask what's going on.

Should I? Should I not?

I quietly peer around the cart myself, from a further distance. Nah seems to be looking at… umm… what _is_ she looking at? There's nothing going on, unless she's watching Laurent take notes about the local flora.

Maybe there's a problem? I should ask. "Hi Nah."

"Ah!" She spins around, grabbing her dragonstone. "Who are- oh, wait, Nathan?"

"Yeah, hi."

"I keep forgetting you look pathetic now. It's weird."

"Gee, thanks." I say dryly.

"And you sound different."

"I'm well aware."

Maybe noticing my disapproving tone, Nah adds, "Not in a bad way, just… weird."

"Moving on." I say flatly. Nah winces slightly at my clear annoyance. To be fair, she _was_ kind of rude. I know this is the first time she's gotten a good look at my new body, and I am rather wimpy, but still. She phrased it as rudely as possible. "Why are you creeping on Laurent? Did he steal something?"

"Laurent wouldn't steal something!" Nah protests.

I'm surprised she was more offended about me joking Laurent might have stolen something than my actual accusation of her being a creep. "Then why are you stalking him?"

"I am not stalking!"

"Fine, why are you sneakily observing him?" Otherwise known as stalking.

"I'm not!"

"Well unless you're looking at the sun or the grass or the trees, I'm pretty sure you're looking at him."

"Shut up Nathan!"

"Oh, I think he heard us."

"What?!" Nah spins about and peeks around the cart, only to notice that Laurent hasn't changed what he's doing at all. She then glares at me. "You dastard…"

"Your denial is adorable." I say.

"I am _not_ in denial!"

"Do you hear yourself?" I ask, trying not to smile. ""I am not in denial", hmm?"

"Shut, _up_ , Nathan."

"It's not a crime to admit you like someone Nah. Unless there's some law I'm not aware of."

"I never said I liked him!" Nah squeaks indignantly. "What makes you think so?"

The denial is strong with this one. "Nah, we already established he didn't steal something from you, and you defended him before defending yourself. Add that on to anything you could possibly want from him you could probably get from someone else, I think it's a fairly safe assumption you like Laurent."

Nah's fists clench and unclench. "Don't say _anything_ to him!"

"I won't." I say. "Though… how long have you been interested?"

"None of your business!"

"Alright, alright." I say, putting my hands up in surrender. "Have fun, uh… magewatching."

I start to walk away, and am mildly surprised when Nah grabs my sleeve a moment later. "Wait, wait… you know things, right?"

"I know a little about a lot." I say slowly. She must be desperate if she's seriously coming to _me_ for help. "It depends on what you're interested in."

Nah glances at Laurent, who (obviously) still isn't looking our way and probably won't so I don't know why Nah keeps looking, "I… you helped Noire before, right?"

Did Noire tell her about the talk we had almost two years ago? The one about Tharja and being your own person? "It's questionable how useful my advice was, but yes, I suppose I did." I say. I can't give myself too much credit. Noire really only needed reassurance, I don't think there was any real possibility she would turn out as bad as future Tharja.

"How do you impress someone?" She asks in a whisper. "You somehow got Morgan, so you must know something."

I think it's less that I "got" Morgan than she chose me. "As far as I can tell, that's thinking about it the wrong way." I offer after a moment of consideration. "It's not about impressing someone so much as it is connecting. It doesn't matter if they think you're cool if you don't get along otherwise. Also, quite frankly, you probably wouldn't have to worry about that anyways on account of being a girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nah asks sharply.

"I… okay." I sigh. "Do you know the choosy/competitive dynamic?"

"What?"

"So there's this dynamic you see in a lot of mammals when it comes to finding mates. One sex is choosy, one is competitive." I explain. "One sex watches for valueable mates, and the other sex competes to appear high-value. Following?"

"Yeah… what does that have to do with me?"

"Humans are like that too, at least on the basest level." I say. "Females are choosy, males are competitive. It also somewhat follows that it's not exactly difficult for a female to find _a_ mate. After all, males are competing just to be able to have a mate _at all_ , and all females have to do is choose… again, on the basest level, ignoring societal stuff and greater human intelligence. If we were dumb-fuck animals, that's about how it would work."

"Is that why Inigo is so desperate?"

Ouch, poor Inigo. "I can't speak for him, but… it wouldn't surprise me. Where I come from it's not unusual to hear of men who are desperate just to get _a_ date, from any woman at all. You could see that as the choosy/competitive dynamic at work. Men take what they can get, because otherwise they probably won't get anything."

"Still don't see what this has to do with me."

"I'm saying the odds are stacked in your favor." I say. "Usually men have to compete, so to be chosen, much less have someone actually approach us without having to go through the emotional roller coaster that is trying to approach ourselves… that's _immensely_ flattering. Now, I'm giving you an extremely simplified version of courtship, ignoring culture and how human intelligence factors into things, so I won't pretend it's a guarantee things will go well. However, on the most basic level, if you approach, you arguably have a good chance. You still need good chemistry and all that of course, and I don't know your relationship before this, but… basic human nature is in your favor."

"That's possibly the single most unromantic piece of encouragement I've ever heard." Nah says bluntly.

"I know." I say. "But would you have preferred if I'd given you a generic "go get 'em girl" talk?"

"...no."

"So then you get science-ish encouragement." I say. "So, again, short version: men don't get approached much, so being approached is flattering, that's an advantage in your favor if you want to capitalize on it. Has he been nice to you before?"

"Yeah."

"Consistently?"

"Yes."

"Then try. You probably stand a decent chance."

"But what if romance never crossed his mind?" Nah mutters, glancing furtively at the boy who is _still not looking our way Nah, you don't have to peek every five seconds_.

"Then this will bring it to mind." I shrug. "I wasn't considering a relationship until Morgan suggested it."

"But…"

"Nah." I say. I put a hand on her shoulder and kneel down to eye level. "It's always a gamble. I think it's in your favor, but there _is_ a chance of failure. That's not going to change. You can try now, or you can wait until… I dunno… after Grima dies, or just never. Up to you. Timing might change those odds, but there are always going to be odds. It's never going to be a certainty."

"Auuugh." Nah groans. "That sucks!"

"Yeah, it really does."

"Stupid humans and their weird courtship rituals." Nah mutters.

I flick her in the forehead. "Says the girl stalking someone."

"Why can't you all live for a few hundred more years?" Nah complains. "I'd have time to gather my courage!"

"If it takes you a few hundred years to gather courage, I think you have other problems."

"Smart-ass."

"Stalker."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Stop acting like one then." I say. "Go up to him."

"Fine!" Nah huffs. "I will!"

"Okay."

"Okay!"

"Go then."

"I'm going!" She all but shouts, and marches towards Laurent… only to slow to a nervous shuffle in a few seconds.

"Stalker." I whisper after her. Her head whips around in a glare, but it has the desired effect of giving her her courage back (if merely to spite me and prove me wrong) and she properly walks up to Laurent.

I can't quite hear what they're talking about, but Nah hasn't run off in tears so I assume things are going well. Rather than spy on this relatively private moment, I take my leave to do inventory and decide to check on Nah later.

I learn later that Nah _didn't_ ask Laurent out, but she did spend a nice hour and a bit with him as he explained the local flora to her, and he asked if she'd like to join him in his search for certain rare plants, which Nah seemed very happy about.

###

I don't care what she says about being "weak" in her human form, I'm fairly sure the reason why Nowi didn't want to fetch her dropped dragonstone was because it's _at the bottom of a cliff_. Granted, not a very large cliff, but it takes a good hour to find a way down. I refuse to believe Nowi couldn't do this herself, because I've seen her casually scamper up trees as easily as climbing stairs. I'm too soft-hearted, and she knows it. That's why I'm at the bottom of this stupid cliff looking for a shiny rock in dense undergrowth.

Lazy dragons. Can't solve their own problems. That makes two dragons I'm helping in just as many days.

" _I'm starting to think I should have just gotten Morgan to burn everything. That would probably make this easier._ " I think to myself, using my sword to swat aside some particularly big-leafed plants. " _Or maybe mages have arcane sight, like DnD. Maybe they could just point it out by seeing a magical signature or something._ "

So, again, I should have just gotten Morgan. Heck, at the very least she would help me search. But Morgan is busy anyways. She's got tactics training (also see: playing with figurines) and is helping Robin study maps of Valm and Valentia in advance so it's easier to formulate plans once we arrive and can properly assess the war situation.

Hmm… I wonder if any of the other mages would have helped me search if I asked. Maybe Laurent. I know he's got a good will streak. Other than that… probably not anyone. The price of not having friends I suppose.

In case you're wondering, dragonstones are palm-sized, and Nowi's is light green, making it that much more difficult to find. I'm looking for a plant-colored stone in a bunch of plants.

"Do not fear, soldier!" A female, loud ( _very_ loud) voice calls out from above me. "The great and powerful Cynthia is here to… to…"

I glance up to see a pegasus hovering a few dozen meters above me, with a confused-looking Cynthia looking around. Eventually our eyes meet, and she speaks again.

"I was told there was someone in trouble around here, have you seen them?" She asks. "I don't want my entrance to go to waste!"

I see she has her priorities straight. "Was the person who told you that, by any chance, Nowi?"

"Yeah!" She nods. "How'd you know?

"Because I know she's too embarrassed to come back and check herself." I grumble. Nowi probably realized I was taking a long time and sent Cynthia to come check on me under the guise of "someone's in trouble!" If she put as much effort into finding the dragonstone as she has avoiding responsibility, we'd already be done searching. "No one's in trouble Cynthia. Nowi lied."

"No way!" Cynthia gasps. "That's not very heroic of her! She shouldn't be crying wolf if there's no wolf!"

I guess that moral tale exists here too. "She wanted to save face. She lost her dragonstone and asked me to find it, and it's taking a while."

"She didn't even stay to help? That's just lazy of her." Cynthia huffs.

No kidding.

"Well never fear! For I, Cynthia, hero of justice, will help you!" She pronounces. "And Snowflake too!"

The pegasus snorts. I don't know if that's agreement, or if snorted because it heard it's name. How intelligent are pegasi exactly? I never did figure that out.

Cynthia carefully finds a place to land and hops off her pegasus… or at least she tries to. Her mother really shines through in her, and by that I mean she would have face-planted into the dirt if I didn't catch her.

"You didn't see that!" Cynthia says, and scrambles to her feet. "I was totally elegant and cool!"

"If you say so."

Just like everyone else in the Shepherds, Cynthia's appearance is remarkably accurate to the game; though either because of the few years that have passed in this world or just because she's probably an adult just like everyone else, she does appear a bit older than her game portrait. I don't know how to explain that in physical terms though. A slightly sharper face? Maybe she's taller than expected? I don't know what it is, but there's _something_ different. She's very clearly a young adult rather than vaguely teenage.

Also, just like all the other pegasus knights I've seen so far, Cynthia has armored boots that protect her lower leg and knee and an armored skirt which covers bare thighs ( _why_ is that the case? Why not armored pants? There has to be a reason!) and her chestplate now extends to cover the stomach area unlike her game portrait.

"So what does Nowi's dragonstone look like anyways?" Cynthia asks as she tries to kick aside some plants.

"Light green, palm-sized, reflects the sunlight." I say.

"Ooh… that's going to be hard." Cynthia mutters, eyeing the plants around us.

"That's why I've been here for so long." I sigh. "Do you have a torch? We could burn some stuff. That might help."

"I don't think the Khans would appreciate us starting forest fires in their country." Cynthia notes.

"Ah, good point."

To my surprise, Snowflake _is_ helping. The pegasus is kicking around plants and sticking its nose in shrubs, apparently looking for the dragonstone. Is it mimicking us, or is it actually looking?

You know what, I've got a pegasus knight right here. I can just ask. "Cynthia."

"Yes, soldier?"

I don't think she knows I'm a Shepherd. "I'll admit to being very unfamiliar with pegasi, so I have a question if you don't mind."

"Sure! I know a bunch about them, _obviously_!" Cynthia says proudly.

"I don't doubt it." I say. "So, I suppose there's no polite way to put this, but how intelligent are pegasi? I've been told that they're intelligent, but I have no context for what that means. Are we talking human-level, or, like, dog-level?"

Snowflake snorts and beats its (her? his?) wings at me. That's probably offense if I had to guess. Apparently Snowflake understands me.

"Oh shush Snowflake, it's just a question." Cynthia tuts. "Brady asked the same thing before and you didn't snort at him!"

Snowflake tosses their mane and snorts again petulantly.

"Don't mind her; she's just huffy. Proud thing." Cynthtia says fondly. "Pegasi are close to human as far as we can tell. Somewhere around a monkey."

Snowflake whinneys, and Cynthia sighs in exasperation.

"I'm not saying you _are_ a monkey, silly!" She huffs.

Cynthia spends the next minute arguing with her stubborn pegasus. I've resorted to slashing apart the undergrowth in an attempt to see better, and honestly it's not helping. Now I have a bunch of loose leaves in my way.

"Aah, don't flap! You might blow away the dragonstone!" Cynthia whines as Snowflake beats her wings in irritation. "Snowflaaake!"

"You know who else throws tantrums?" I ask cheekily. "Monkeys! Not helping your case Snowflake."

If a pegasus can glare, then Snowflake glares at me. She does stop being fussy though. I'm also starting to think that pegasi have to have higher than monkey intelligence, because Snowflake apparently understands what we're saying.

Even with Cynthia and Snowflake's help, it takes a few dozen minutes to find the dragonstone. It's actually Snowflake that finds it. She sticks her nose into a shrub, knocks a few branches aside, and picks out the green stone with her teeth.

"Ooh, good job Snowflake!" Cynthia praises, and the pegasus drops the rock in her hands. "Thanks for your help!"

"And thanks for yours." I say. "This would have taken hours- well, more hours- without you… though I suppose part of the reason it took so long was because it took an hour to get down."

"An hour?" Cynthia blinks.

"Yeah." I nod. "That's an almost completely vertical cliff, and I don't have climbing gear! I was being cautious."

"Well…" Cynthia looks at the cliff. I probably took longer than I needed to going down, but whatever. I've never tried to climb something difficult before. "Okay, fair enough. I get to fly, so I never considered how long it would take."

She climbs on Snowflake's back, and then pauses.

"Are you coming?"

"Oh, uh…" I hesitantly approach the pegasus. "I've never ridden a pegasus, or any animal for that matter."

"No time like now!" Cynthia says cheerfully. "I don't have stirrups, so you'll have to do a bit of a swing to get on. Snowflake?"

Snowflake vocalizes what I can only call a sigh, and lowers her wings to the ground.

"So, you're going to have to stand facing the opposite way as me." Cynthia says. "And grab my waist."

"Okay…" I cautiously do as she instructs.

"Tighter."

I oblige and tighten my grip a bit. No time to be shy I suppose.

"Now, you're going to swing your far leg up over the saddle while pushing off with your other one and pulling with your arms, and I'm going to help by grabbing your shirt. Oh, and mind the wings."

"This doesn't sound easy."

"It just takes practice, and it's easier because pegasi are shorter than horses, you can even do it on the move!" Cynthia says cheerfully. "Though that requires a certain amount of timing. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be…"

"Come on then!"

I try to execute all the necessary movements at once, and it's decidedly ungraceful. It's only thanks to Cynthia's surprising upper body strength as she hauls me up by my sleeve that I manage to get on Snowflake's back without falling. Snowflake sways a bit during the process, and I have a moment of fear that she's going to throw me off. I _did_ mock her earlier.

My fear is unfounded though. Snowflake does nothing of the sort. She only brings her wings up and beats them once to signal her readiness to fly.

"Okay, now hold on tight." Cynthia says. "This is your first time, so arms around my waist. You can normally get away with less, but it helps if you know how much you need."

"No chances." I mutter, wrapping my arms around her. It's decidedly uncomfortable because of her armor.

"Exactly." She chirps. "Alright Snowflake, let's go!"

I look down exactly once before deciding I don't like the look of the ground falling away from me, and I instead stare at Cynthia's armor for the duration of the flight and probably hold her a bit more tightly than needed.

(The armor on her skirt doesn't go all the way around, it stops halfway. I guess it's so Cynthia doesn't have to sit on metal?)

Okay, I _have_ to ask about it. I have to. The more I look at pegasus knight armor and equipment the more confused I am. I have to know if the weird saddle and the armored skirt and whatnot are practical considerations, or if it's aesthetic.

I have the good sense to wait until we're down on the ground though. Cynthia gets off first and helps me down (and by that I mean I all but fall off and Cynthia catches me, not unlike when she got off at the bottom of the cliff).

"So?" She asks giddily. "Fun?"

"I was going to go with "terrifying", but fun works too." I say.

"Aww… well I guess flying isn't for everyone." Cynthia sighs.

"Also, I have another question."

"Please don't be about pegasi intelligence again, I don't want Snowflake to be mad at me." Cynthia says.

"I promise it's not about pegasi intelligence. In fact, it's not about pegasi… directly."

"Alright, I'm listening. Let the heroic genius Cynthia answer all your questions!"

Yeah, she and Morgan will get along well. They have almost the exact same personality, or at least the exact same tendency to stroke their own ego. "Why is your armor and equipment so weird?"

Cynthia pauses. "What do you mean…?"

"Well, I know how saddles usually look, and usually they're more than just a seat and some straps." I say, pointing to her saddle. "There's usually more fabric around the sides, hugging the horse's body, right? Also, your armor is odd. I noticed you only have half your skirt armored, and for some reason you don't have thigh armor at all, and I was wondering if that's an aesthetic thing or if there's an actual practical reason."

Cynthia hesitates for a moment, then says. "You know, this is probably the first time I've had a guy talk about my skirt in a way that I think _isn't_ supposed to be creepy."

Oh, uh… yeah… maybe that was a bad question to ask someone I just met. Shit. "Sorry, my thoughts get ahead of me sometimes. I'm used to Morgan being fine with literally anything I ask, so…"

"Oh, _oh_! You're…" Cynthia snaps her fingers a few times, trying to remember. "Nathan, right? The outworlder? Morgan's boyfriend?"

"That's me."

"Noire told me about you!"

Oh good. I don't think Cynthia would be nearly as happy to find out who I am if Inigo had told her about me.

"Am I actually a legendary hero in your world!?"

"Uhh… well, you're a character from a game. Legendary might be a stretch, but you're certainly a hero."

"Yes…!" Cynthia cheers quietly, pumping a fist in victory. "I'm a hero in another world!"

Eh, sure. We'll go with that. As long as it makes her happy. "So, uh, my questions…"

"Oh, right." Cynthia perks up. Her earlier hesitation is completely gone. Apparently "Morgan's boyfriend" is prestigious enough of a position that she doesn't assume I have weird intentions. Yay? "Well, the saddle and lack of thigh armor are kinda one thing. We don't really know why but having skin-to-skin contact, skin-to-fur I guess, helps with coordination. We're not sure if it's magic or if it's some subtle feeling of the muscles in our legs, but the lack of thigh armor and the different saddle are based around allowing for that contact to happen. The armored skirt is obviously to make up for that, and it's not armored in the back because we don't want to sit on metal! It's not like skirts have a nice fixed structure where you can put padding inside in the right places, so if we sat down wrong with metal back there things might get uncomfortable real quick."

"Fair enough." I say. "Doesn't that chafe…?"

"Only if you don't brush your pegasus well." Cynthia says, then frowns. "I would know, I made that mistake once, and it _sucked_. That burn took forever to go away."

"I can imagine." Friction burns are not fun.

"Well, if that's all, I'm off to do hero things." Cynthia says. She hands me the dragonstone. "Tell Nowi she's lazy and terrible for me."

"I'll relish it."

Nowi is sheepish and apologetic when I hand her the dragonstone back. Apparently someone else (and by that I mean Nah, who is very critical of her mother's behaviour if you'll remember) already chewed her out for passing on the job to me, so I pass on Cynthia's disappointment as well as a small scolding from myself and leave it at that. I'm pretty sure Nah chewed her out better than I ever could, knowing her.

###

"Morgan…"

"Hmm?" She mumbles.

"Did I ever tell you my name isn't- _wasn't_ I guess I should say- Nathan?"

Morgan rubs her eyes. "Is this a bit Nathan…? We are trying to go to sleep, right?"

"No, it's not a bit. I just remembered now." I say quietly. "I meant to tell you a long time ago. Naga reminded me of it when I spoke to her, and then I just sort of… forgot."

"So your name isn't actually Nathan?"

"I mean, it is _now_." I say. "I took on that name when I entered this world, mostly as a way to emotionally distance myself from being stuck here. I could put on a facade by taking on a new identity."

"Basically roleplay." Morgan murmurs. "But on a bigger scale?"

"Yeah. And then it started to fall apart after a little while after I knew I'd be stuck here. Couldn't put on a mask forever." I say.

"I get it." Morgan murmurs. "So, who are you then?"

"I'm Nathan. That hasn't changed." I assert. "Everything I've told you about myself is true, it's just that I used to be called Eric."

"Eric, huh?" Morgan hums. "I don't really have anything to say to that. It's a name."

"It is."

"And I'm still tired."

"Is this the part where I say "hi Tired"?"

"Mmm…" Morgan mumbles, and closes her eyes. "You could just say "goodnight Morgan". That works too."

"Alright. Goodnight Morgan." I say quietly. "Please don't be angry when you wake up."

"Just a name..." She says, already fading off. "Talk in the morning..."

To my relief, Morgan isn't angry when she wakes up. She seems rather indifferent to the information actually. I won't complain. I don't want this to be a big deal.

###

"-back your kind hand, lest precious love slip away like time's sand…" I sing quietly to myself as I hang up laundry on a line. It may sound strange, but out of all the chores I have to do I like laundry the most. It's basic and repetitive, which means I don't really have to think about it. My mind can wander to whatever else I want. I've started to have new story ideas, and so this is the perfect time to mull them over and consider how they'd work. I doubt I'll ever actually write these, it would be weird to write fanfiction about Fire Emblem, even if not Awakening, now that I know those characters actually potentially exist.

I could probably abuse all the knowledge I have of media properties back on Earth to have an easy time pumping out stories that are novel to everyone in this world, and I will probably do that at some point, but I'd like to write something original too. It really sucks that I can't do sci-fi though. People here aren't going to know what guns are, much less space ships, lasers, and droids and such.

Anyhow, that's not really the point of me doing laundry at the moment. The reason I bring up this scene at all is because it's rudely interrupted by a certain redhead.

"You!" Severa shouts, stomping into the laundry area.

"Me." I respond, sparing her only a glance before returning to work. "Hello Severa."

"Don't "hello" me! I know what you've done!"

"Really? Well, that simplifies things. Here I was worrying I'd have to explain my entire backstory to yet another person." I say sarcastically.

"Don't sass me!" Severa says. I hate her already. That didn't take long. "How dare you corrupt Inigo's sister when he wasn't around to stop you!"

"I'm sorry, have you _met_ Morgan? If there was anyone doing some corrupting, it wasn't me, that's for sure."

"And another thing!" Severa says, completely ignoring me. "Who said you could go looking into our secrets! That's rude! I don't want someone random knowing all about me!"

"Oh sure, and how about you never get invested in the characters of a book ever again? Just so we're being fair here?" I respond acidly. "Are you quite done being an unreasonable brat? You can leave."

Severa stomps a foot. "I am _not_ being unreasonable! What right do you have to pry into our lives and take away Inigo's sister?! You didn't struggle through a dead world and spend years on the run!"

Ah, so that's the issue. I'm an outsider intruding on the tightly-knit group of the future kids, which Morgan is still considered a part of. From that perspective, yeah, I guess I might look rude. That's still an illogical assumption to jump to if you bother to put more than ten seconds of thought into it, but it's not like I had high expectations of Severa.

"No, I didn't, because you were all fictional characters to me until a few years ago." I say curtly. "It's not like I was intentionally prying into your private thoughts. And as for Morgan, she approached me I'll have you know, and it's not up to you to restrict who can and can't interact with members of your little group."

"I know it's not! But you're trying to _steal_ her from Inigo!"

"I have used neither force nor coercion, thank you very much." I say. "Morgan is free to do whatever the fuck she wants, I'm certainly not stopping her. I don't know why you're so hung up on the idea that I'm intentionally trying to keep Morgan away from you."

"Because Inigo doesn't get to do anything with her!" Severa protests. "Morgan is always busy with _you_!"

Really? I guess me and Morgan have fallen back into our habit of spending almost every free moment together, so that does mean that she has precious little time otherwise to spend with other people. I mean, she could take time out of _our_ time together, it's not like I'm stopping her, but she doesn't particularly care to. "That's up to Morgan. I've not been stopping her or anything, so it really isn't my fault."

"It is! You're distracting her!"

I roll my eyes. "Sorry for being her boyfriend."

"As you should be." Severa huffs. "Inigo wants to time with his sister, alright? Stop hoggin her."

"Why didn't he just ask himself…?"

"He's _shy_! Gawds, what's so difficult about this?" Severa complains.

Severa leaves me alone after that, but she's certainly given me something to think on. It was easy to forget that I'm an outsider, and it was easy to forget that the future kids are very closely knit. It's also easy to forget that Morgan has a family. I don't mean that I forgot Robin or Inigo existed, but they've been kind of a non-factor in our relationship. Beyond a few words of warning from Robin, they've mostly kept out of our way (or maybe Morgan has _kept_ them out of our way, I don't know).

I don't know what to make of this information. I'll have to mull it over. Severa is still a bitch though. I can understand confronting me for Inigo's sake, but she seriously didn't put any thought into the situation. At least she's loyal to her friends I suppose.

###

My little games library is starting to show some results, and more important, pull a profit. Not much of a profit considering I'm not charging all that much, but a profit nonetheless.

"I charge five copper per hour, with a ten copper deposit that's refunded when you return the game." I say. "That means twenty rents for an hour each is one silver! Not bad, huh?"

"That _is_ pretty good." Morgan says in amusement. "Look at you taking advantage of the Shepherds having decent money."

"I know it's a bit expensive just to rent a game." I say sheepishly. Considering a loaf of bread is one copper, this would be _way_ expensive back on Earth. Imagine charging… uh… twenty dollars Canadian to rent a game for an hour. "But it works."

Actually, now that I think about it, that's not the worst thing ever. A bit pricey for sure, but not ridiculous. There's no way this scheme would work with people who make less money than the Shepherds though. Five copper isn't pocket change to someone like a farmer.

For reference, in being a Shepherd I earn three silver a month and get free food, housing, equipment maintenance (assuming it wasn't my stupidity that broke something) and other perks. So I basically get three silver, and have no expenses. That's a good deal, and more importantly, it's enough that people can occasionally spend a mere five to ten copper on renting a game because they have literally no expenses (or at least no basic expenses).

"That's great." Morgan says again. Why does she still look amused? What's funny about this? "So how much do you make a month from that?"

"I mean, I haven't even been running this for a month yet, and it's rather inconsistent." I say. "But, let's see… I usually get _someone_ renting each night, so let's just say five copper a day. Five copper times twenty five… a silver and twenty-five copper. That's more than a third of my pay for being a Shepherd!"

"Pretty solid." Morgan says, still smiling in amusement. "You've got a neat little stockpile of money for yourself now, huh?"

"Yep." I nod. "Or, well, both of us if we need it, though I guess you still have all that gold…"

"Nathan." Morgan says, grinning now. "Have I ever told you how much I make?"

I think I know where this is going. "No."

"Well, I'm a tactician, I get more than soldiers." She says.

"Right…" I say slowly. "So how much a month?"

"Oh, just a gold."

My roughly four silver and twenty five copper is _nothing_ compared to that.

"Though, granted, I'm not just a bog-standard field tactician." Morgan says. "If I was the lowest rank tactician I'd probably be looking at maybe ten silver a month. The Shepherds obviously bump the pay a bit, but even so, I get as much as I do because I'm skilled. I'm almost comparable to Father in terms of skill after all. I _did_ one one or two of our mock battles."

It's true, she did. I guess I never considered how much authority that actually gives her. Robin is High-Deliverer, which is roughly analogous to being a General (from what I can tell). Robin technically has the authority to command an army. Now, granted, he's a tactician before being a strategist, and it's questionable if he would actually ever be put in charge of an army, but his rank technically allows it. I don't know what Morgan's rank is, but it must be significantly higher than I was expecting.

"That also means I'm going to have a lot more responsibility when we get to Valentia." Morgan murmurs. "Because I _will_ be expected to lead squads on the battlefield. If we ever have to split the Shepherds, well, I'm our next-best tactician behind Father."

"Joy." I say dryly, making it very clear I don't think that's joyful at all.

"But that's not fun to think about!" Morgan chirps. "I just wanted you to know that you don't have to worry about me." She hugs me, and continues patronizingly (if jokingly). "I'm still going to take care of you~!"

I roll my eyes, trying to cover for my embarrassment. I'm glad Morgan is having fun with this though. "The hope is that you won't _need_ to."

"Oh sure, but I absolutely will if I have to." She says, then sighs. "Can't a girl pamper her boyfriend without him trying to be all "independant"?"

I laugh quietly upon hearing that, and a happy grin crosses Morgan's face in return. "Don't encourage me to be lazy Morgan, I just started being useful."

"Pff, you make it sound like I care about "skills" or something." Morgan jokes. "Don't you know all I care about is your cute face?"

"Somehow I'm not surprised." I say. "It's not like you make constant innuendos out of everything that imply you only care about appearances."

"Hey!" She pouts. "I mean, you're totally right, but that's rude and I'm going to pretend I'm offended!"

If my arms weren't somewhat pinned to my sides, I'd patronizingly pat her on the head right now. Alas, Morgan is taller than me now, so I have to settle for patting her on the waist instead.

"Seriously though, it's great you've got something going for you." Morgan murmurs. "I didn't mean to make your efforts feel insignificant. However, I _will_ take care of you regardless of what happens; just like I know you'd try to if I was the poorer of us."

"I get it." I say. "I know it's not an ego thing. Well, not _just_ an ego thing, because I know you rather enjoy having power."

Morgan shrugs shamelessly. "Guilty as charged."

"It's because we're partners." I say. "Right?"

"Obviously." Morgan huffs. "Clearly I haven't doted on you enough if you feel the need to ask."

I roll my eyes again. I was actually being sincere, if cliche. "Morgan-"

"I know you were serious, and I agree." She says quickly. "But can we have fun, _please_?"

Have I really been shutting her down that often? I know I tend to nudge us away from outright lewdness (partially out of habit because Morgan's lewdness is a running joke that, and also partially because I'm nervous that I'll have no idea what to do if I actually let Morgan take things further), but it's not like we've had any lack of cuddling or, uh, makeouts the last month or so. Am I really moving too slow?

"Sorry, that was phrased poorly." Morgan backtracks. Did I make a face or something? I don't want to guilt her into holding back her thoughts. "I'm not saying I haven't had fun, I have, absolutely; you've been wonderful. Heck, you were doting on _me_ more than the other way around for the entirety of training."

Yeah, but it's not like some housework and massages make up for multiple months of Morgan holding together my fragile emotional state and providing for me because of my (former) complete lack of survival skills.

"But I was hoping… so you know how we roleplay, right?"

"I'm well aware, yes."

"And we cuddle and kiss, right?"

"Yes." It's not like I could miss that. Where is this going?

"Okay, so… can we combine those?"

Ah. Right. I guess that was the logical conclusion to all the stuff we do. I guess, just by virtue of me poking fun at her lewdness in roleplay but seriously considering advances when she's serious herself, I've gently steered us away from this combination so far.

"We don't have to if you don't want to!" Morgan says quickly, seeing my hesitance. "Just… it seems like it would be fun."

"Yeah, uh…" I mentally scramble, trying to decide how I should be reacting to this. "Yes, sure."

"Are you positive? You sound nervous." Morgan asks.

"I am." I admit. "I'm not opposed, Naga knows I'm not. I'm just… uh… can I be blunt?"

"Please do." Morgan says. She's actually released me from the hug at this point to hold my hands in hers, and it's reassuring somehow. Maybe because it makes us even. Morgan isn't "in charge" right now.

Incidentally, that's part of the issue.

"I'm nervous about putting myself in your hands like that." I say. "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just…"

"Letting someone physically toy around with you is scary?"

"Yeah."

"We'll set boundaries you know."

"I know." I sigh. "I'm sure I'll get over myself."

"You don't have to say yes Nathan."

"No, no, I want this too." I say. "Just trying to figure out my mental hangups and quirks is all."

"Ah, okay." Morgan says. She allows a grin to cross her face once more. "We're going to have so much fun."

I take a deep, calming breath and nod. It will certainly be something. I also can't help but feel this is an intentional distraction from the whole "going to war" thing, but hey, at least it'll be a fun distraction. Might as well figure out how far we're willing to go _before_ we're dealing with lengthy marches, constant fighting, and severe physical and emotional strain. "Yeah, we will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… yes, this new part of Nathan and Morgan's relationship felt like a natural extension of their dynamic. Now that it's been established though, you won't see much of it unless it's somehow relevant. It's very much a background detail. The way you see them interact is going to be mostly the same.
> 
> Anyhow…
> 
> Cynthia is both easy and fun to write, and Severa is… difficult. Yes, I intentionally made her a bit of a bitch here. She has serious negative traits (especially in Nathan's eyes), but she's not all bad. I made sure to make her a bit more sympathetic in the last chapter, and it's not like her motive was bad here.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan again.

"Morgan." I say.

"Nathan." She says.

"Do you see what I do?"

"I think I do."

"Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Just incredible."

"Rare too."

"One in a million, or so the rumors go."

Inigo's eye twitches in irritation despite his attempts to ignore us. He can't turn to glare at us because of the woman on his arm whom he's trying to entertain.

He should have known better than to bring her close to camp. Honestly, did he expect Morgan _not_ to poke fun at him about this? Heck, I won't be surprised to hear later that Severa or Kjelle gave him shit about it.

"Here we observe the wild Inigo outside his natural habitat." I say quietly. "This lucky specimen has gotten himself a _date_ , a rare and fortuitous event for any Inigo. This necessitates the specimen to go outside his habitat of desperately fishing for attention into actual skilled flirtation; quite a challenge for a creature well known to be utterly hopeless in such matters."

Morgan obviously doesn't get the joke, she's never seen a nature documentary, but she's amused nonetheless.

"What do you suppose she saw in him?" Morgan asks cheekily. We're speaking too quietly for Inigo to hear at this point. "Was it the bad pickup lines? The fact that he's easily manipulated?"

"Maybe." I chuckle. "It might just be because he's handsome though."

"Oh really?"

"Really." I say, and I'm being honest here. "There were people back on Earth who liked how he looked. Cute, handsome, a mix between the two. Inigo had _something_ going for him. He was one of the most popular future children."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, dead serious." I say. "That's why he got into Fates."

"Fates?"

"The next game. I've told you about this before, right? There was this whole contrived explanation about a god summoning Inigo, Severa, and Owain to come to his world to save it. They were chosen because they were the most popular future kids… aside from Lucina, who was number one. They couldn't bring her to the next game because she's a special case, so they went with the next best three."

"That's ridiculous." Morgan huffs. "My brother, _popular_? That sounds like a bad joke."

"What a supportive little sister you are." I say sarcastically.

"Supportive? Have you met me? I don't do supportive _._ "

"Beg to differ."

"Well of course I support _you_ , you're my boyfriend, but my brother? The point of a little sister is to be a bitch, not to be _supportive_!"

"I'm pretty sure that's Severa's job."

"Well she needs to stand aside then. It's _my_ duty to antagonize him, not hers!"

I roll my eyes. "What a terrible sister you are."

"I know." Morgan says, grinning.

"Honestly though, I'm glad he found _some_ success. I think he was getting demoralized."

"I dunno if him finding success is a _good_ thing." Morgan says. "I don't think hitting on women is something we want to be encouraged."

"Mmm, true." I agree after a moment of thought. "But at least he's happy."

"Yeah." Morgan agrees after a moment. "I'm still going to give him shit for it though."

"I'd expect nothing less."

###

"Behold! I Owain Dark, will deal with these foul abominations with the legendary Missletain!" Owain cries. "This blade will make even the unfeeling Risen tremble in fear and beg for mercy!"

I suppress a grin as Owain spouts his lines. It was already amusing to read his lines in the game, but seeing it play out in front of me really drives home how ridiculous he is. You get used to seeing these exaggerated personalities in video games and shows, but seeing someone actually shout about their legendary blade and making people beg for mercy in person has a much more pronounced effect.

And by "pronounced effect" I mean I understand exactly why Inigo gives Owain so much shit in their support conversations, because it's impossible to take Owain even remotely seriously and it really does feel like a big joke.

Then again, I'm not one to talk. Me and Morgan do weird shit all the time, but me and Morgan don't take ourselves remotely seriously… and I don't know if the same can be said for Owain. I know his acting is sometimes a way of training himself, but in combat situations like this I don't see the benefit unless he's intentionally trying to be comedic or actually serious about what he's saying.

"How nice of you to volunteer to lead the attack!" Morgan says. "You're on point with Lon'qu and Vaike to back you up. Laurent, Nathan, the three of us need to deal with the archers as quickly as possible. Brady… uh… heal."

Brady rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I figured."

"I'm on point- I mean, of _course_ I'm on point! I, Owain Dark, am clearly the most capable and-"

"Forward, Shepherds!" Morgan calls, completely cutting him off. "Kill 'em good!"

I won't pretend the Risen are particularly challenging. It's a few undead villagers and hunters, they're basically irrelevant. No, the reason I'm drawing your attention to this battle is Owain. He's… he's something.

"Ike's Raaaaage!" Owain cries, swinging his blade in a wide arc to lop off a Risen head in dramatic fashion. He strikes down the next few Risen with similarly grand strikes. He's quick to twirl out of the way of counter-attacks from the other Risen, but it seems to me to be an unnecessarily flashy way of fighting. He could use smaller, quicker strikes and achieve the same effect and not leave himself as open.

Then again, what did I expect from Owain?

Even Vaike's attacks don't have as much follow-through as Owain's, and he's using an axe which lends itself to follow-through much more due to the weapon being so top-heavy. Out of worry, I focus my attention on the Risen around Owain after dealing with the archers. I'm worried he's going to get a pitchfork in his side during one of his dramatic attacks.

I think my shots are taking the wind out of his sales a bit though. There are a few times where he turns in a direction, expecting a Risen to be there, only to find that my bolt defeated it a moment earlier.

He spares a glance back at me with a look that's either confusion or annoyance, and I wave politely before returning to shooting things.

The battle warps up quickly, and as we head back to camp I quickly forget about Owain's potential recklessness. Morgan makes for an excellent distraction. Owain is not so quick to forget.

"Are you moving on to arcfire soon?" I say

"Probably. Miriel and Father think I'm close to being able to handle it, and I'm already looking into the theory behind the spell and the actual spell circles." Morgan says. "I should be able to cast it by the time we get to Valentia, actually."

"That's great!" I praise. "It-"

"Hey!" Owain cuts in. "Uh, Nathan, right?"

"That's me!" I say. "And you're the infamous Owain Dark!"

"Infa- yes, I am! I'm glad to see my legend-! Wait, how do you know about me? I don't bring this stuff up outside the Shepherds and the kids."

"Outworlder~!" I hum.

"Right." Owian says, and briefly furrows his brow. I think he doesn't know how to deal with that information. It's not like he didn't know about it before; all the new future kids were told about me to some extent, but he was never so directly confronted with the fact that I might know some things about him that he'd rather I not. "So, uh, a question my noble friend."

"I'm not a noble, but ask away."

"Your archery from you… erm… device, is quite impressive, yet I could not help but notice that your fearsome arrows struck home close to mine own blade many times, defeating foes with which I was engaged. I am not one to turn down assistance, but I am not the only individual who needs your support!"

What a diplomatic way of him saying he didn't enjoy me kill-stealing. I can also tell by Morgan's slight nodding that she also noticed what Owain is talking about, though the way her lips purse and her eyes flick to Owain I think she knows my reason.

"I was merely concerned that your fearsome strikes might be rudely interrupted by opportunistic Risen who don't appreciate your display." I say. I think Morgan would prefer if I was more direct about this based on a slight eye-roll, but she doesn't say anything. I don't have your confidence Morgan! I don't like confrontation!

"Indeed, though I can't say I exactly expected Risen to appreciate me." Owain says. "Perhaps you could give your support more evenly next time, unless directed by our tactician?"

"I- well-" I say hesitantly. I want to point out he was being reckless, but I'm not an expert at combat or anything so maybe I'm just missing something? I don't want to tell him off only to be proven wrong… "Okay."

"Great!" Owain says, and starts to move away.

"No, not _great_." Morgan huffs, and grabs Owain's sleeve. "Nathan…"

"What?"

"Don't just let it go, you knew something was wrong." She scolds.

"I mean, I didn't know for _sure_. I'm not an expert on swordplay." I say sheepishly.

"What? What's wrong?" Owain asks.

"You were being reckless." Morgan says bluntly. "You were making these huge attacks and leaving yourself open."

"I gave myself plenty of time to dodge other Risen!" Owain insists. "Owain Dark would not let his magnificence devolve into recklessness!"

"Combat is not something you can toy around with Owain." Morgan scolds. "Even simple enemies can be dangerous. I don't want to have to tell your mother that you got killed because you tried to do… uh… Xander's angry pink pommel strike on a Risen and you got stabbed in the throat because it took too long."

"I would never be so callous!" Owain protests. "...and I don't have a move called that."

Morgan rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Don't be reckless. Nathan was trying to make sure you didn't get killed while showing off, right Nathan?"

"Yeah." I admit sheepishly when Owain looks at me in surprise. "I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Oh." Owain says, suddenly quiet. "Thanks, sorry to cause worry. I'll be more careful in the future."

With that sudden turnaround in attitude, Owain quickly retreats to the back of the group, leaving me surprised.

"He completely changed tune." I say to Morgan. "Did we say something right?"

"Not really." Morgan hums. "I'm pretty sure he's just embarrassed."

"What?" I frown. "Why?"

"Nathan, we just called him reckless to his face."

"Ah, right."

"But why the quick turnaround?"

"Oh, that was you."

"Me?"

"Yeah." Morgan shrugs. "His grandstanding means nothing if no one is impressed, right? At first it just looked like you were watching his back because you thought he was cool, so he stood up for his theatrics, and then you eventually said that you thought he was going to get himself hurt, and suddenly he sees that we _both_ thought he was being dumb and you were just being polite."

Okay, I can see how that might be a tad embarrassing, and why he might suddenly crumble and back out.

"Also, in case you haven't noticed, you're sort of seen as this cool outsider with future knowledge, and he maybe sorta wanted to be impressive in your eyes? You know, because it would be awesome to know someone from another dimension thinks you're great."

"Cool?" I say, raising my eyebrows in frank disbelief.

"Okay, maybe not cool, but you're still sort of… exotic." Morgan says, though she's clearly struggling for the right term. "You're from another dimension! That's cool, even if you…"

"Aren't?" I supply.

"Yeah." Morgan says reluctantly. "I mean, you're great in other ways, but-"

"You don't have to reassure me Morgan. I'm well aware you like me."

"Good." Morgan says. "Because in the past you definitely wouldn't have been."

True. Thank Naga I'm mostly past the worries I'll be abandoned.

###

I do just about every miscellaneous task around camp in some capacity, and that involves repairing clothes. Now, strictly speaking that's _not_ a chore that is actually assigned. People are responsible for their own clothes. However, not everyone knows how to sew, so the Shepherds that _do_ know how to sew do that work in exchange for small favors, or sometimes just out of the goodness of our hearts.

Whenever I have to do any significant amount of sewing, I usually seek out Noire. Not because I need her help, but because she does a lot of sewing too, and she makes for a good conversation partner who won't be completely distracting like Morgan.

Love you Morgan, but I can't focus when you're around.

"Are things going well with Tharja?" I ask. "Have things gone well in the year and a bit since your introduction to her?"

"It's been… well…" Noire mumbles. "It's been okay. Mother is strange, but she's nothing like Mother was in the future. Nothing at all…"

"You sound disappointed." I note.

"Well…" Noire fidgets with her thread. "I wanted my mother to get better, not for her to be a totally different person."

"She's that different?"

"Yeah…" Noire says quietly. "She… she's obsessed with Robin for some reason, she hasn't even looked at Father, her curses are all petty and small, and she's not just better to me it's like she's actually trying to be _nice_."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"I- well yes." Noire blushes in embarrassment. "But it seems so… wrong. Out of character even! I was expecting her to be a bit callous but to be trying to improve, but right from the start she was kinda nice to me, and it's like she's actually trying to be a mother and it's just so _weird_."

That's a very unique problem to have. Also, Noire is so used to Tharja being an asshole that Tharja actually being a _good_ mother is considered completely out of character? Yikes. "Do keep in mind that what you remember of your mother was post-war. A lot can change in even a single year, much less a single year in a warzone."

"I know, I know." Noire says. "But I can't shake the worry that this world is going to turn out _too_ different, that I won't have my Father…"

"If Tharja never deals with him, you can always go talk to him yourself." I murmur. "As much as we're trying not to make the first generation feel obliged to marry, that doesn't mean you can't _ever_ talk to Gaius."

"I know." Noire says. "I- I _have_ talked to Father. N-Not telling him that I'm his daughter of course! But I think he might suspect anyway."

"Because you don't really talk to the first generation outside of your mother, do you?" So her choosing to talk to Gaius among the first generation gives away her interest.

"No." Noire admits. "S-So I think he knows, even if I haven't directly revealed anything."

"And? How has he been dealing with you?"

"He's been nice. He's just like I remember." Noire says wistfully. "He even gave me my favourite candy, like he used to before he left in the future."

"That's nice." I say. I remember that Gaius didn't seem to change all that much in his endings in the game, so I'm not surprised he's mostly the same. "He likes you?"

"I think so." She says. "He always has more of my candy on him whenever I talk to him…"

Yeah, Gaius definitely knows. He doesn't usually share his sweets for nothing in return.

"H-He's also been teaching me how to be sneaky." Noire says. "A-And because he taught me lockpicking in the future, I might be able to start helping with some of his solo missions, because I'll be able to do everything I need for the job."

Training your daughter to be a thief, are we Gaius? Ah well, I don't see Noire using her skills for anything criminal, not without a good reason. "That's fantastic. I'm happy for you."

"Th-Thanks." Noire says with a tentative smile. "It's much easier to talk to you about this. Severa… well… she tends to get _passionate_ about certain things when I discuss them."

"You mean she rants."

Noire blushes again and looks away. "Yes. I love her, but…"

"I get it." I chuckle. "My father was like that. He was great, but he was terrible at listening sometimes. It's not that he was mean or anything, but he would offer a solution to everything when sometimes I just wanted someone to listen."

"Yeah!" Noire nods rapidly. "Just like Severa! Sometimes she'll tell me that I shouldn't be complaining about something because it's a good thing, and I _know_ , I'm not saying it isn't, it's just odd, but-"

"She doesn't seem to understand the difference between odd and bad, or why you might want to talk about something odd?"

"Yes!" Noire says. "Exactly! When I talk to her about Mother she keeps saying I shouldn't worry and that this is a good thing and I _know_ , I know that, but that doesn't mean it isn't odd, that it doesn't make me think."

The conversation lulls from there, but it's a comfortable lull. The rest of our time repairing is spent in much less serious conversation.

Noire makes the mistake of asking about how things are going with Morgan, which naturally leads me gushing about my girlfriend for ten minutes. Noire is amused.

###

I have projects. I don't get to work on them often because most of my free time is spent on Morgan, but I do have projects.

My current project is folding chairs and desks. I know that sounds weird, but currently Morgan and Robin and all our leadership are forced to use stools and basic tables, so some collapsible furniture might be appreciated. It's not vital or anything, just a quality of life upgrade.

The chairs are pretty simple all things considered. It's the desks that are problematic.

I have to make sure the legs can be folded under the desk, yet the desk isn't too heavy, but I also want it to have drawers, but I can't make the desk too fragile because it has to be relatively durable. The design process is difficult enough, but actually creating the desk is another matter, and I scrap several attempts when I realize something is more flimsy than I thought, or that I've put something in an inconvenient place, or any other number of problems.

I settle for a design that folds in on itself, and can be stored as a waist-high, but relatively thin box. I remember back on Earth seeing some videos about this really creative (and probably very expensive) space-saving furniture, and this desk is basically my attempt to re-create one of those. When compacted, it's only about the size of a night-stand, but the trick is that you can basically unroll the interior of the night-stand to align with the top and make a full desk.

It's hard to explain this in words, so just trust that I'm not crazy. The hardest part is making a system capable of lowering or raising parts of the desk while still keeping them attached to the parts that allow the segments to rotate.

It takes a lot of time, and some help from Miriel to design the more technical parts, but I'm eventually successful. It's not as compact as an actual folding table, which is very thin and can be slid into cracks between crates in wagons, but it's not unreasonably large, and actually having drawers is much appreciated by Morgan, and eventually the other Shepherds who actually need desks.

Yay for taking advantage of other people's knowledge from Earth! Sorry whatever company came up with that super compact desk I'm thinking of, I've taken your idea and you're getting nothing from it!

My business shall be entirely built upon the ideas of others which I shall shamelessly steal! And I can actually get away with it because no one from Earth will stop me! I laugh in the face of copyright!

Maybe someday I'll actually use my own creativity rather than ripping off others' ideas, but that day is not today.

###

"Nathaaan, nooo." Morgan whines.

"I have chores Morgan." I say, and pry her arms off me. "We go through this every morning."

"But it's cooold!"

"You can borrow my blanket then."

"But I want yooou!" She says, stretching her arms out.

I fondly roll my eyes and throw my blanket at her. "Yes, I know, needy girl."

"I'm not needy." She pouts, and pulls the blankets around her body like a burrito. " _You're_ needy."

"I won't deny I'm needy, but that doesn't mean you aren't." I tease. I roll her over with my foot and get changed. The cold Feroxi air is unpleasant in the morning. I miss my blankets already, but at least I have winter clothes. I repurposed my old furs from the outfit I had when I first got into this world into a new outfit, which I'm wearing now, but it's not as good as having a blanket. "I'll come get you for breakfast, okay?"

"Fine…" She says, still pouting. "I'll go back to sleep, but I won't be happy about it."

Yes she will. She loves being able to sleep in. "Don't roll into any fires while I'm gone."

That gets a glare from her, and I smile unabashedly. It's such an old joke by this point, but I love it. "If you stayed-"

"Yes, yes, I know." She tends to roll towards heat sources, so that's usually _me_ since we share a tent. I lean down and kiss her forehead. "Go back to sleep Morgan."

"Fine." She grumbles. "Don't take too long."

"I'll try." I murmur. It doesn't actually matter, she's going to be asleep until I come back to get her, but I'll try to hold the promise anyways. It's the principle more than the reality that matters.

Today isn't anything unusual: make sure Sumia is awake to start breakfast, get water from the steam for soup and drinks, feed the animals, make sure the bathing tents have soap and fresh towels, all sorts of miscellaneous things. I'm just nearing the end of my morning chores (getting more water, this time for a bath for myself) when I notice something usual…

...and by "something" I mean "someone".

She's trying to be sneaky. That's probably why she's hiding behind a tree. I think it's just a coincidence that I happened to be at the stream, and therefore she missed me leaving and doesn't know I'm behind her.

It's Lucina, by the way. She's the one hiding behind a tree. I can't see if her mask is on or not, so I don't know if she's in disguise right now or not.

It doesn't really matter I suppose. She's already aware that I know who she is. I'm surprised she didn't hear me come back, considering I'm holding two big buckets of water.

Well, I should probably stop staring at her and actually say something. "Hi Luci!"

"What-!?" Lucina spins around, fumbling for her sword for a second before managing to draw it. She _does_ have her mask on, good to know. Despite the fact that I clearly don't have a weapon on me, she keeps Falchion pointed in my direction and grips the hilt with two hands. "Who are you? How do you know who I am? How did you get around me!?"

"I mean, I was just bringing some water up to the bathing tent." I say calmly. "I didn't get around you so much as you were along my path when I was coming back."

"I… see." Her shoulders hunch just a bit in embarrassment over her mistake. "But do not dodge the rest of my questions. Who are you and how do you know me?"

"Nathan, outworlder. Morgan told you about me with the communication spell."

"Ah." Lucina says, and lowers her sword. "You're Nathan?"

"Yep. Nice to finally see you Luci. I was worried you weren't going to show up! The timeline is already pretty messed up considering the future kids gathered so early and we dodged the need to get Plegian ships, but I think you not being around might have been bad. You're sort of an important piece of the timeline."

"I see." Lucina nods seriously. "And that is mostly your doing."

"Guilty as charged." I say. "Though, I have no idea if Morgan would have woken up sooner or later if I hadn't shown up. The paralogues only open up after the timeskip."

"Timeskip? Paralogues?"

"Uh, right, there's a lot I need to explain." I say. "Look, I was going to take a bath, so how about we go wake up Morgan and she can explain the basics while I clean up? Actually, breakfast is soon, so either way we're going to have to wait until after then to talk, so…"

"I think I would prefer to remain unseen." Lucina says. "I don't know if I'm prepared to face my parents."

"They already know they have a second child." I offer. "They don't know it's _you_ , as in Marth, but they'll only be so surprised."

"Truly? I suppose I should have expected as such if the others are here." The Princess says. "Very well, I shall gladly meet Morgan, though I think it may take some time before we can speak more. I expect my parents will be eager to take up my time today, after I reveal myself."

"Good point." I say.

I lead Lucina into camp, taking a moment to leave my buckets in the bathing tent. Stahl, who is standing guard, raises his eyebrows in surprise at seeing "Marth" walk into camp, but in seeing me leading her around he doesn't raise a fuss or rush to tell someone else.

I have Lucina wait outside my tent for a moment as I wake Morgan up. "Hey, Morgan."

"Nathaaan." She yawns, and rolls onto her back. She shrugs off her blankets. "Breakfast?"

"In a bit. I've actually woken you up for something else." I say. "Get dressed. There's someone you need to meet."

"It better be Naga if my sleep is getting interrupted for it." She grumbles. She starts to pull off her nightshirt, so I politely turn my back.

"Unfortunately it's not." I say. "Though it's someone equally interesting, perhaps moreso."

"Grima?"

"No."

"Anankos?"

"Not a god."

"Demi-god?" Morgan asks. "I'm dressed by the way."

"Not a demi-god." I say. "Luci? Come in."

There's a small pause, and Lucina hesitantly pokes her head into the tent. "Hello?"

"Ooh, you look cool!" Morgan chirps. She looks at me. "Is this Gerome?"

"I just said "Luci" Morgan. It's Lucina." I know she's wearing a mask, but seriously.

"Ah, right, right." Morgan nods. "Awesome…"

"And I have to take a bath, so _you_ need to give her the basic explanation of everything."

"Handing off the hard work to me, huh?" Morgan huffs. "I see how it is."

"I know, I'm terrible." I say, and press a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you."

"No problem." She says. "Go get clean. I'll handle it."

"Okay."

Lucina watches this with curiosity and a bit of a blush on her face. It's just a kiss on the cheek Lucina! You're not even involved! Are you that actually bashful about this? Your parents are going to embarrass the hell out of you. Maribelle isn't so uptight that she won't accept affection from her husband.

That aside, I leave Morgan and Lucina to talk so I can clean myself up.

###

Lucina causes a bit of a stir at breakfast. She removes her mask before entering the tent, but even without being easily identifiable as Marth she's immediately swarmed by all the other future kids.

"Lucina! Our fated leader has returned! Rejoice all ye with Naga's favor, for my cousin has returned!" Owain cries dramatically.

"Lucina! Hiii!" Cynthia shouts, and tackles the girl in a hug. "It's been too long! Are you okay? What have you been doing? Did you get into cool battles? Ooh, did you make any cool entrances that I can use!?"

"Uhh…"

"Hey! Sis! Ah, move aside you lot!" Brady grunts, and muscles his way through the other kids. "Luci! What took you so long? The rest o' us have been around for months!"

"Sorry Brady, I had other things to take care of." She says, and embraces her brother. "I'm here now though."

"Lucina! How dare you leave us for so long!" Severa shouts as she stomps over. "What could you have been doing that's more important than finding us!?"

"Nice to see you too Severa." Lucina says in a tone that makes it very clear she's used to this sort of attitude from the redhead.

"Lucina! How fortunate it is to have your beautiful face returned to us!" Inigo says. "Perhaps you'd care for some tea later?"

"Perhaps another time, Inigo."

Kjelle, Noire, Nah, Yarne, and Laurent are all much more quiet about their greetings, and don't shout for the whole tent to hear. Not that it really matters, because everyone else has stopped what they're doing to watch and listen anyhow.

Also, Chrom and Maribelle absolutely heard Brady call Lucina "Sis", so naturally they've risen out of their seats to come see their daughter.

That also means that everyone but Brady quickly gets out of the way. I'm sure there's going to be questions later about how she got here, how she knew were to find us, and I'm probably going to have to explain a thing or two to Chrom, but that's a concern for later.

For now, I can sit back with Morgan and be relieved that almost all of the main cast is assembled. Henry, Cherche, Virion, and Gerome will be collected on the way to the front lines, and we're likely to meet Say'ri and Tiki along the way too. Lucina and Henry were the only people I was really concerned wouldn't come along with the Shepherds, and Lucina is by far the more important of the two.

We've got our key players. With a bit of luck, the rest of the timeline should be (relatively) smooth sailing from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got Lucina on board now. I've got to get my notes in order now, because so far I've been coasting by with Nathan having mostly inconsequential interactions with others. Lucina is a bit more serious. I might have to deal with… PLOT.
> 
> I know, scary. I've been avoiding the dreaded PLOT for two dozen chapters, but it's finally catching up.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan!

Nathan is distracted for a few days with getting Lucina up to speed on everything, which is both good and bad for me. It's good because Nathan is a tempting distraction from planning for the war, so I'm actually getting some planning done… and it's bad for the exact same reason, because the true weight of what we're doing is starting to dawn on me.

We're going to war. _War_. You know, the "thousands of people are going to die" war, the "all my friends could be killed in an instant" war… and _I'm_ responsible for keeping everyone alive. Not by myself of course, but that's still a horrifying thought.

Admittedly, this is part of why I was so eager to hog all of Nathan's free time that I could. It's easy to be confident when I'm doing it _for_ someone. It's easy to be confident around Nathan, around Noire, around Father. It's half performance, half truth. I don't think I'm incompetant, or not up to the task. I can certainly do my job, but I'm under no impression it's going to be easy, or that there isn't a chance I'll make a very costly mistake.

Of course, that's exactly why I need to spend time now in intensive planning, but it also means an early start to the stress I was going to be under anyways in Valm.

I shouldn't be complaining, I know. I have people's lives in my hands. That doesn't mean I like doing this any more than I did before though.

I run through as many situations as I can come up with dealing with cavalry, as I know Valm has a lot of cavalry. I consider full cavalry attacks, various cavalry squads supporting infantry formations, bow-knight skirmishes and ambushes, ways to deal with or mitigate great knight and paladin charges on open terrain (if I maneuver correctly that should hopefully never happen, but it can't hurt to have emergency preparations just in case), valkyries and dark knights in general (I've never seen, much less fought, either of those before; they're something completely different than I'm used to dealing with) and just… ugh.

I also have to keep in mind Nathan's notes as I work. They're basically the only reason I can even begin to plan for future situations, though I also have to keep in mind just how much the situation has changed from what he knows.

I also have some worries about "class skills", as he calls them. From what he's aware they don't exist, but by his own admittance most of the basic classes don't have very noticeable skills. It's things like great knights or bow knights where there's going to be some really noticeable effect from class skills like the skilles Luna or Bowbreaker, and I want to know if these have any president in reality.

Look, I know a lot. I don't think I'm flattering myself unduly by saying that. At the same time, I don't know the ins and outs of swordmaster training, so I have no idea if the game's Astra skill is a reflection of some high-skill technique that actually exists. I don't know the ins and outs of _any_ training aside from tactician training, and combat tacticians aren't even a thing beyond me and Father so it's not like I can use Father not knowing about Ignis as a basis to claim that Luna or Astra don't exist because Father is mostly inventing new combat techniques as he goes.

I bring this up to Father, because major skills might actually be relevant, and he has this to say:

"Luna exists." Father says, busy in his own planning. He doesn't even look up when I ask. "Not by that name, but it does exist. Every time Nathan gave us new information, I did some checking around to see how accurate it was, and Luna, Astra, and a few other skills do have some precedent. Luna is a matter of knowing armor, weak points, and having enough speed and weight behind your weapon to blow past armor with sheer force, Astra is the practice of having a certain predetermined series of moves that one can execute in quick succession due to rigorous practice giving muscle memory, which has some drawbacks I can explain later. Sol doesn't exist from what I'm aware, but many other "advanced skills" as Nathan put it, do."

So that's fun. I have to account for some advanced skills maybe or maybe not existing.

(It would be so cool to be able to enchant my sword with Ignis… focus Morgan)

My renewed preparations also signal the start of daily battles with Father, both in terms of sword fighting and magic as well as war games. I'm the only one with significant tactical competence aside from Father himself, so I'm the only one he can practice against and actually get a challenge. My practice with anti-cavalry tactics comes in handy very quickly when he takes the role of Valm's forces and I have to try to defend.

"It seems too easy." I comment after one such match. I defeated Father's cavalry quite soundly, and that just doesn't feel right. "It doesn't feel like we should be able to brush aside heavy cavalry like this…"

"I agree. It can't be this easy." Father mutters. "Perhaps it's just a matter of the system we're using?"

"Maybe…" I frown. "Perhaps we need to give Valm a bit more credit? Throw in some more auxiliary units?"

"Maybe." Father agrees. "Let's try that."

That helps the problem, but we still run across the issue that battles seem unusually one-sided towards Ylisse, no matter which one of us is controlling each side.

"It might just be that we're used to playing as Ylisse." Father suggests. "When I was planning for Plegia, I always took the role of Ylisse while Virion played Plegia."

"Maybe." We are more intimately familiar with Ylisse's capabilities and tactics, which generally involves lots of basic soldiers bolstered by a few squads of specialists, or else small-unit battles like the Shepherds deal with where we can lean entirely on our highly-skilled specialists. There's a huge skill gap between basic soldiers and specialists in Ylisse, but in Valm, most of their heavy cavalry likely sits somewhere just below ours, it's just that they have much, _much_ more of it.

"Oh Naga I'm stupid." I say, bringing up my hands to my face. "We're not going to have Ylissian units at all! We're the only Ylissians going to Valm!"

"I-" Father blinks, then sits heavily in his chair. Our stupidity hits him like a boulder to the face. "Naga, you're right. I've been practicing with Rossanites in mind for weeks, but when you suggested we run scenarios I completely forgot. I'm so used to bringing out the Ylissian figurines."

"I suppose our current practice is fine for the _Shepherds_ , so it's not totally wasted." I say. "But in anything that's not a small-unit operation… what do Rosannites even have?"

"Archers. _Lots_ of archers." Father says, rubbing his head. "Also some wyvern riders. At least they tend to rely on spearmen for basic troops like Ylisse."

"Good." I mutter. Plegia and Ferox have a thing for axes, but Ylisse has always been big on lances. You can't do better than a nice, long spear in most Ylissians' minds, and admittedly spears are a very solid weapon. All of Ylisse's most basic infantry units are spearmen. Ylisse doesn't have _any_ wyvern riders though, so that's a new problem for us. "Well, I won't argue with some snipers or anything, but cavalry is going to murder formations of archers if they can get close."

"And _that_ is the strength of Valm's cavalry. It's strong in relation to their neighbours." Father realizes. "Chon'sin has lots of lightly armored swordsmen, and Rosanne has lots of archers. Cavalry, especially heavy cavalry, deals very well with both of those."

"We'll need to pick fights with terrain in mind even more so than usual." I say. "Any open terrain could be a death zone for our units if they have cavalry."

"I wouldn't quite go that far, but yes, open terrain will become something to be wary of." Father murmurs. He rubs his eyes then starts rearranging pieces. "Okay, let's go through these again, but let's change our troops to something more appropriate."

This is going to be a _long_ day, I can tell.

###

"Come on Morgan, up, up."

"Nooo…"

"You're going to miss breakfast Morgan."

"M'tired."

"I know you are, considering you didn't come back before _I_ fell asleep, and I stay up late." Nathan says. "But you're going to be a lot more unhappy if you don't get warm food."

"That's a problem for future me." I grumble, turning my face away from him.

"I don't think it is." Nathan says. A moment later his hands go under my arms and around my body, and he hauls me out of my bedroll. "Come on."

"But it's cooold." I whine, and try to rub sleep from my eyes when he sets me on my feet. "Nathaaan."

"I'll keep you warm then, or we can bring a blanket." He says. Seeing that I'm not doing anything, he crosses his arms and says. "If you won't get dressed, I'm going to carry you to the mess tent as-is."

"Fine." I grumble, and set about getting dressed. I don't bother with my usual cleanup spell that would fix my hair. I'm so tired I don't think I could get the hand motions right. When I'm done, Nathan drags me by the hand towards the mess tent, and I drag my feet the entire way until Nathan gets fed up and just throws me over his shoulder and carries me.

"Really dear?" He says, sounding more amused than annoyed. "Are you an actual child now?"

I'm too tired to really process the use of a pet name, so I focus on the rest of the words. "It's in my description." I mumble, and close my eyes. "Future _kid_."

"Alright then little one, let's get you some brekkie so you can go back to sleep." He baby-talks to taunt me.

I'm too tired to rise to the bait, even with such a tantalizing opportunity to role play. I just really want to sleep. "Fine."

Maybe it's because I don't respond the way he expects, but Nathan doesn't taunt me anymore. Instead he pats me on the back.

I imagine some people raise their eyebrows when Nathan walks in carrying me over his shoulder. He sets me down at a table and kisses my forehead, leaving me to stare blearily at the table until he returns with food.

"Robin is looking rather out of it too. What were you two up to so late at night?" He asks. "Shouldn't you be saving the late nights for when we're actually in Valentia?"

"Gotta get practice in." I say, and grab my spoon for the soup. Nathan quickly stops me, and I give him a flat glare. "I thought you _wanted_ me to eat."

"Yes, but I'd suggest using the spoon for soup rather than a knife." He says gently.

I look back to my hand to see that I did indeed grab my knife instead of my spoon. "Oh."

"How late did you stay up?" He asks, clearly trying to hold in a laugh. "Morgan…"

"Don't 'Morgan' me." I grumble, and fumble for my spoon. "And it was only four in the morning."

He shakes his head. "Less than four hours of sleep is not a good look for you."

"I hate you."

"Mmm-hmm." He says, rubbing my back. "Sure you do."

I finish my food with painful slowness, and as soon as I'm done I lean my face into the crook of his neck and try to rest. Nathan makes good on his promise to try and keep me warm and wraps his arms around me, though it's mostly unnecessary. My coat is plenty effective, but his furs are still nice.

Unfortunately we have to leave soon, and I have to pull myself away from Nathan to help put away our tent and other stuff, and after that we have to actually start marching.

As soon as we start marching though, Frederick comes marching over to us. "Morgan."

"Hmm?" I say, rubbing my eyes. "Wut?"

"I must express my displeasure with you and your father keeping such late hours." Frederick says with obvious annoyance. "And suggest you refrain from such things in the future."

"Cool. Okay. Got it." I say.

Frederick sighs. I think he knows I'm not paying attention. "Get in a cart and sleep. Don't let this happen again."

"Okay…"

Frederick shakes his head as he walks away, and I find a cart to sleep in.

"It's going to be so bumpy." I complain, and try to curl up next to a grain sack. "And this is a terrible pillow."

"Mmm." Nathan says, smirking a bit. I can _see_ the " _this wouldn't have happened if you went to sleep on time_ " comment in him, but he refrains from vocalizing it and instead settles for another kiss to my forehead. "I'll see you in a few hours."

I say something that even I can't recognize and pull my hood over my face to block out the sun. A fond chuckle from Nathan is the last thing I hear before I fall back into a fitful sleep.

I wake up about four hours later feeling a bit less tired, but still grumpy and uncomfortable. I crawl out of the no-longer-moving to find that we've stopped for lunch. I wasn't woken up because lunch isn't finished yet, not because Nathan forgot.

Wandering around the camp, I eventually find Nathan in conversation with Lucina.

I could be polite and find something else to do while they talk, but fuck that. I'm grumpy and I want my boyfriend.

With absolutely no forewarning, I walk up to Nathan while he's in the middle of explaining something, sit in his lap while wrapping my arms and legs around him, and once again rest my head in the crook of his neck.

To Nathan's credit, he only stops talking for a brief moment before continuing to explain whatever he was explaining to Lucina. He rubs my back in the meantime.

As I'm being lazy, I remember a few days beforehand how Lucina was easily embarrassed by even small shows of affection, so I lift my head just enough to peek at her, and Lucina is indeed a bit flustered. She's trying to pay attention to Nathan but keeps glancing down at me, and she has a slight blush on her face. I imagine we must look a bit ridiculous considering I'm taller than Nathan too.

I decide, of course, that this is the perfect opport to mess with Lucina, because it's always funny to see how embarrassed people get whenever we show a bit of affection. So I turn my head and start to nibble on Nathan's neck, just to see how Lucina will react.

The massive blush that crosses her face, as well as her shock, is priceless. My actions also completely obliterate Nathan's focus.

"Okay, yes, hello Morgan." He says, glancing down at me. "Feeling needy today, aren't you?"

"That's me, needy girlfriend. Can't have you talking with another girl, can I?" I say. I'm joking of course, I couldn't care less Nathan talking to other girls, but Lucina doesn't seem to get that despite the obvious sarcasm in my voice.

"My apologies." Lucina says with utmost sincerity. "I did not intend to seem as if I was attempting to intrude upon your relationship."

"Joking Lucina." I say. "Just wanted to see you blush."

"I- oh." Lucina says, and frowns. "Why so?"

"Because it's cute."

"Oh." That makes Lucina blush again. What an innocent little snowflake, does she blush at everything?

"Morgan, don't tease the princess." Nathan chides, but he too smiles. "Anyhow…"

Nathan goes back to explaining something about the game, and this time I'm content just to rest and listen and be lazy until eventually lunch is called.

###

Knowing about Severa's talk with Nathan, and how Inigo is jealous of him taking all my time (you know, despite the fact that _I'm_ the one who obsessively hogs Nathan's free time and not the other way around), I decide that maybe I need to not ignore my brother except for occasional bouts of mockery and actually spend some time with him.

Yeah, sure. I'm _totally_ not going to regret this by the end of the day.

"Morgan, have you been slacking in your training?" Inigo asks as I'm once again put on the defensive in our spar. "I don't remember you being this incompetant when I first came to Ylisse."

"Oh sure, _you_ try balancing swords, magic, and tactics." I grumble as I deflect a strike. "You only have to pay attention to swords, of course you'd be more practiced at it."

"So you admit I'm better." Inigo teases.

"No." I block another swing, kick him in the shin, then pommel-strike him in the face. "Just that you have more practice."

"That's cheating." He complains, rubbing his forehead where I hit him.

"All's fair in war."

"The saying is-"

"I know what the saying is, but _everything_ being fair in love is creepy as fuck." I say.

"You just say that because…" He trails off quickly.

"Can't say that I only say that because I've never been a part of it, because _unlike you_ , I actually have a partner." I taunt.

Inigo grumbles under his breath.

"Say, whatever happened to that nice girl you picked up a few villages back?" I ask.

Inigo says something too quiet for me to hear. When I raise an eyebrow and put a hand to my ear, he sighs and says (a bit louder) "She stole my wallet."

I don't even try to hold back my laughter, and his glare does nothing to deter it.

"It's not funny!"

"It is!" I say, and poke him in the cheek. "Playboy gets his money stolen by someone he tried to hit on? That's just perfect!"

"What's a playboy?"

"Womanizer. Earth term."

"Of course it is." He grumbles. He readies his sword. "Again?"

"Again." I agree, and grin. "I'll refrain from playing dirty to save your fragile ego."

"Don't. You caught me off guard once. It won't happen again." Inigo promises.

For all the shit I give him, I have to grant that Inigo is a good swordsman. When prepared for me playing dirty, he does manage to win more often than not.

Though, of course, I'm not using my magic so that bends the fights in his favor. I stand by that I would still win if I could use magic.

###

You might think that I'd reject Inigo trying to get me to act as his wingman out of hand, but you'd be wrong. How can I pass up front row seats to Inigo's failures?

I'll be a good sister and try to help him, but I don't expect it to make much of a difference. Inigo has enough failure in his system for the both of us… or in other words, I don't think my charm can make up for his utter lack of it.

This is a new, interesting experience for me though. I learned a bit about how to flirt from Anna, but it was always from me to a man and not the other way around, and considering mine and Nathan's relationship was built up in a very odd way (not to mention _I_ mostly took charge) I can't exactly use Nathan as a reference point, so watching Inigo attempt to flirt is fascinating in the sense of learning something new.

I don't even get a chance to say anything the first time Inigo tries to flirt before he's shot down. He literally says one line, gets a passing glance from the girl in question, and then she scoffs at him and walks away.

"Congrats bro. Is that your new fastest time?" I ask.

"Shut up."

His next attempt goes a little bit better, and I watch from a distance. Inigo sidles up to his next target, who is doing some shopping, and starts talking.

"Hello there my lady!" Inigo says with a wide smile. "What good fortune it was for me to see a face as lovely as yours here today!"

The woman doesn't say anything, but she does glance at him in curiosity. Inigo takes that as enough of a go-ahead to keep up his approach. To me it seems like she decided to ignore him, but hey, what do I know? I mean, I know more than Inigo, but shush, he's practicing his art: _failure_.

I'm such a nice sister.

"Perhaps I could interest you in a cup of tea?" Inigo offers. It seems to me that he's moving a bit too quickly, you probably need a bit more subtle flattery and have to make _some_ connection before trying to secure a date. "I would appreciate nothing more than to gaze at your lovely visage for a while longer."

Laying it on a bit thick there Inigo. I've rarely seen normal flirting and even I can tell that's not going to work.

It also seems like those words were some sort of trigger for "I shouldn't deal with this guy" because the woman quickly excuses herself and jogs away from Inigo.

"Well that attempt lasted about five times longer, so that's something." I say cheerfully.

"I'm well aware, thanks." Inigo says flatly. "Didn't you agree to help me?"

"And I will. I needed to know what I was working with first." I say. "And I think I have an idea already."

"Yes?" Inigo goes from annoyed to eager in an instant, and I roll my eyes.

"Don't lay it on so thick." I say. "You need some subtlety or else you just look desperate. Try to make _some_ connection before inviting them for tea. No girl is going to want to accompany a complete stranger."

"I see." Inigo nods. "I need to sell myself."

Not exactly what I meant, but close enough. "More or less."

"Understood! I shall endeavor to make myself seem worthy of their time!" Inigo says.

I meant for him to find some common ground with them, but whatever. You do you bro, but you're gonna get denied like that.

My prediction quickly comes true, and it turns out that trying to talk himself up just leads to him getting shut down even harder than usual, as rather than ignoring him women start scoffing at him or giving him the middle finger before walking away.

Okay, maybe I should try a little harder to explain what I meant.

"Okay, I meant more that you need to find something in common with them to talk about. Like how me and…" I was going to say Nathan, but considering me spending time with Inigo was brought on by him being jealous of Nathan, maybe I should use a different example, "...Laurent can talk about magic and new spells and such, even if otherwise we aren't too close. Bridge the gap from stranger to an acquaintance with possible common interests."

Inigo nods, lapping up everything I say. I'm kinda shooting in the dark here to be honest, but the things I'm saying feel to me like really basic things for making friends (much less finding possible romantic partners), so I'm fairly confident they're applicable.

I mean, I made my best friend because he carried me out of a temple in the middle of the woods and entertained me with stories of another world while I kept his panic attacks to a minimum, so _maybe_ I'm not the one Inigo should be coming to for advice.

Ah well. It's not like he's going to get help from anyone smarter than me. I'm only doing this because he's my brother, or else I'd roll my eyes at him trying to hit on girls and ignore him.

At least this time I think he gets my advice right, and it seems to help… but Inigo is really bad at it. It's almost like trying to make small talk is difficult for him, which is ridiculous considering he flirts with any woman he sees. How is small talk more difficult than flirting?

When I say Inigo is bad at small talk I mean he fumbles words, has awkward pauses where he clearly doesn't know what to say, and generally suffers from excessive nervousness and what I think is (oddly enough) lack of experience.

This seems absurd to me. Inigo of all people shouldn't be lacking social experience, yet that's exactly what I'm seeing. That shouldn't be true… unless Inigo hasn't talked normally to strangers in a _really_ long time.

I guess wearing a mask of confidence runs in the family.

I also think that maybe I should rescue Inigo from his latest failure before he embaresses himself further.

"Hey Inigo! Dad needs us!" I shout, lying through my teeth as I jog up to my floundering brother. I grab his arm without prompting and pull him away from the woman he was failing to talk to. "Oh, excuse us."

"Is this your little sister?" The woman asks, suddenly looking interested.

Apparently Inigo isn't the only one who's shallow. I know I have a cute face, but seriously lady? "Yes, I am, and we're leaving."

Inigo resists a bit as I drag him away from the lady. "I was doing well!"

I've seen Nathan do better, and that's saying something because Nathan _sucks_ at talking to strangers in any capacity. "Yeah, no. When's the last time you chatted with someone without trying to fuck them?"

"I- That's _not_ what I'm trying to do!" Inigo sputters, sounding genuinely shocked.

"Fine, without flirting. Whatever. When was the last time?"

"I speak to shopkeepers-"

"Not for business." I interrupt. "A normal, casual conversation with a stranger."

"Well, I have been on the run in a dead world for several years, so it's been a while." Inigo says defensively.

"So not for a really long time."

"...yeah."

Is it just my destiny to be surrounded by the socially incompetant? Even Mother can be painfully self-conscious and occasionally makes a fool of herself because of it, and Father… doesn't really talk to anyone outside the Shepherds, so I guess I don't really know. Still, that's two out of three of my immidiete family, and there's also Nathan, so that's three out of the four people I'm closest to who are varying degrees of socially inept. Actually, now that I think of it, those three (and me!) also have a flare for the dramatic in some way. Father's only real close link to our rough family unit is through me. We do tactics, we're both amnesiacs, that sort of stuff. Otherwise he probably has the most in common with… Nathan. Not his own (future) wife or son.

Wait, Father probably doesn't consider Nathan part of the family more-or-less, so… I guess it's _just_ me who he's similar to in that case. That's even more depressing.

Then again, who am I to talk? I don't spend much time with my brother or my mother. I probably shouldn't make conclusions with such limited information.

"Inigo, just…" I sigh deeply. I can't believe I'm saying this to _him_. "Calm down, smile, and talk about something you like. Something that _isn't_ women. Talk about tea maybe, since you seem to want to have it so much."

"It can't be that simple."

Well, I'm sure there's a bunch of other minor factors involved, but for practical purposes... "Yes, it can. Do you want me to show you? I'm good at talking to people."

Inigo draws himself to his full height. "It would be a failing on my part if I had to rely on my own younger sister just to talk to strangers."

I raise an eyebrow and put my hands on my hips. "Isn't that why you brought me along?"

He at least has the presence of mind to be embarrassed. "Well… um…"

I roll my eyes. "Just watch me, alright?"

I take a moment to pick some lady who looks friendly, young, and not horribly busy. No one wants to be interrupted during important work. It's only polite. I find a green-haired lady perusing some books from a merchant, and decide she'll work as well as anyone else. I don't read horribly much, but I _have_ read books (aside from that one erotica I gave to Inigo I mean) so hopefully I can hold a short conversation.

I walk up close to her and peer at some of the books. Thankfully the merchant is mostly distracted with someone else, and when he tries to turn to me I wave him off. I'm just looking.

I get a glance at the book in the lady's hands, a romance novel judging by the title, take a deep breath, and talk. "Are you a fan of romance novels?"

The lady pauses in her reading and turns her head to me. "I am." She says in an incredibly thick accent. "And you too?"

"Not personally; my brother is, but he's just too shy to look for something himself so I go looking instead." I say. Even though I can't see him at the moment, I can _feel_ Inigo glaring at me. "Any recommendations?"

"Well…"

I spend a minute listening to the woman talk about various romance series, and I walk away with a new book which I promptly shove into Inigo's hands as soon as I get back to him.

"I hate you." Inigo says. "And I do _not_ like romance."

He holds onto the book anyways, I notice. "That wasn't the point. I managed to talk with her despite being a total stranger. You just need to do that."

"I have to buy books just to talk with people?"

"She bought the book." I say. "I didn't spend a single copper."

Inigo stares. "You got a gift?"

"Yeah."

"After talking to her for five mintues?"

"Yeah."

Inigo throws up his arms in annoyance. "How!? What do you have that I don't!?"

"Amnesia, a charming personality, boobs, nice hips, a romantic partner, the best coat, tactical genius, skill with tomes, skill in games, a few hundred gold, universal confidence, sass, heavy sarcasm, an utter lack of shame and modesty, and probably some other things I'm forgetting." I say cheerfully. "I can make you a list if you want."

"I hate you."

"You already said that."

"It bears repeating."

"Whaaat?" I say, grinning evilly. "Mad I could probably get a girl before you?"

Inigo puffs up like an angry cat. "You could not!"

"Is that a bet?"

"It is!"

"One silver. Get someone to agree to tea. First to do it wins."

"You're on!"

###

"You're back late." Nathan says when I step into view. He's sitting just outside our tent building some furniture again. I can also see a notebook beside him, the one he uses to log which of his games have been borrowed. "Did you have fun with Inigo?"

"I did!" I say cheerfully. "I got a date!"

He pauses and squints at me. "With Inigo?"

My brother? Ew. "No, a girl."

He blinks slowly. "So… is this your lesbian awakening or something?"

"Nope!"

"Oookay." He mutters. "So what was it?"

"Inigo made a bet that I couldn't get a girl to go on a date with me before him. He was wrong." I say with undisguised smugness. "She was very nice, and was fascinated with magic. She also had _amazing_ legs."

"I'm sure." Nathan chuckles. "So bisexual awakening then?"

"'Awakening' makes it sound like I wasn't aware already."

"Point." He says. "So do I have to worry about competition?"

"Nah, I'm happy with what I got."

"I see." He nods, and smiles softly at me. "Anything else of interest?"

"I tried to teach Inigo how to talk to girls. He sucked, and still sucks. He also doesn't know how to talk to people normally."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, he's almost as bad as you."

"That bad?" Nathan says in surprise. "I knew he was putting on an act, but I never suspected he didn't know how to talk normally."

"An act?"

Nathan winces. "Oh, sorry, forget that."

"Support conversation stuff you don't want to say because it's sorta personal?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Now I'm curious though. Inigo is putting on an act? But trying to investigate that would be breaking Nathan's trust that I won't abuse his accidental reveal… I guess I can't investigate then. Boo. "That would explain a lot though…"

"Morgan."

"I know, I know." I sigh, and change the subject. "I also beat him in a swordfight."

"You beat a dedicated swordsman in a swordfight?"

"Yeah! I smacked him in the face with the pommel of my sword."

"Ouch." Nathan smiles. "That's very... you."

"What? Mean?"

"Pragmatic." He says.

"Good, because that's no way to-"

"-talk to my girlfriend, yeah, I know." Nathan says. The fondness in his eyes makes me feel warm inside, if also a bit nervous. "It's a good thing she's a good sport."

Nathan could never get me to blush by being lewd ( _I_ do lewd), but he's always been quite heartfelt, and sometimes that gets me close to a blush. "Sap."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I always appreciate compliments." I say. I walk over and sit down next to him. "How was your day?"

"Boring." He says. "But fine. I'm just glad you enjoyed yours."

"Ah."

"By the way…"

"Hmm?"

"It occured to me that we haven't gone on a proper date in a while."

"I dunno, I think making out in our tent is more than enough." I say. It's not like there's been any lack of that lately. "I mean, I'm not _opposed_ , but if you're saying this because you feel like you're not pulling your weight-"

"No, of course not." Nathan says with a shake of his head. "I thought, since our relationship has mostly been really weird, amazing of course, but weird, that it might be nice to do something like a normal… uh… couple."

I was always aware that's what we were, but hearing it said out loud brings a certain gravity, an importance, to the term.

"And we won't necessarily have the opportunity once we get to Valentia. If there's something we want to do, we have to do it now or else wait until after Grima's fall probably."

When he puts it that way it's hard to argue. I've already begun increasing how much tactics training I do, and that's not going to be _reduced_ when we get into Valentia. "I get it. If you're interested I'm more than willing. Next village or town with a restaurant?"

"Sounds good to me."

"I'm paying!"

"Morgan…"

"I have more money!"

"I know, but I want to treat you for once." He murmurs. "You're always providing for me."

Yeah, because it feels good to do that. I _like_ knowing that I could completely support him if needed. I guess it could feel a bit patronizing though. Besides if everything goes well, at some point our finances are going to be combined, so it really doesn't matter in the long run. "Alright."

With that settled, conversation lulls, and nothing else worth noting happens for the rest of the day.

###

The weeks pass all too quickly. One day I'm running through scenarios with Father, the next I'm having dinner with Nathan in a quaint little restaurant, sometimes I'm leaning dance from Mother, another I'm trying to find something to do with Inigo that isn't hitting on women, and soon we're stepping into the port town of Pinkwood with a weird dark mage bouncing alongside us.

Chrom was surprisingly okay with Henry. Nathan attributed it to the prince being way too trusting.

"It's his best and worst feature." Nathan shrugs. "Just in his nature."

Frederick is a lot less okay with Henry, but it's not like he doesn't know who the dark mage is. Nathan told everyone all about Henry and Cherche and everyone who wasn't a future kid. Frederick knows Henry would have been a Shepherd, so despite his obvious misgivings he hasn't antagonized the guy… yet.

Me? I don't know what to think of Henry. He's got something loose in his head, clearly, but from everything Nathan has told me Henry is more or less a good guy. He's some degree of crazy, no questions asked, and I absolutely shouldn't rely on him to make moral decisions, but he's loyal to his friends, and the Shepherds can become his friends.

So I guess, in a way, even if he's a nutjob we need to take in Henry because we can minimize his negative impact elsewhere. It's a cold, impersonal way to see the situation perhaps, but that's what I'm going with.

Nathan seems to find Henry funny. I just think he's creepy. If Nathan can get along with him, great, I won't complain, but I'm not going to make an effort myself.

The Shepherds as a whole radiate… not exactly nervousness. Resignation, I think. There's a sort of quiet, subdued tone to all our interactions through the next few days. Even Nowi is quiet. Only Henry, who is new and crazy, is immune to the atmosphere.

Chrom and Father meet with a Feroxi commander to get a ride on a ship across the ocean. We've already got a deal with Flavia. Ferox itself is still in the process of mobilizing, and will probably have troops in Valentia a few months after we arrive. Even so, we're going on ahead.

" _Goodbye Archanea_ " I think quietly as I step onto the boat. It's bigger than the shipping vessel we were on when travelling to the Isle of Argent, as necessitated by our mounts and other items. " _Hello hell_."

There might be a few months of boat travel, and then land travel, between me and the front lines, but stepping onto the boat feels like crossing a boundary. My fun times messing around in Archanea are over. Gotta kill a conqueror and a dragon to get those back.

I guess I better brush up on my dragon-slaying. I wish we had Earthly "missiles" or something. It would be a lot better if we could blow Grima out of the sky from beyond the horizon, but alas, we cannot.

Hmm… I wonder if I could develop a spell for that…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan is always a treat to write.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan.

So, do you remember that part in Awakening where the Shepherds get attacked in the middle of the ocean by three Chon'sinese pirate ships?

You don't? They're supposed to be Valmese, you say? Yeah, that's what I thought too, and that's why I assumed we _weren't_ going to have some mid-water battle because Chon'sin and Rosanne are still holding out, but apparently not. We just get pirates instead of the Valmese military.

"I know they're flying a Chon'sinese flag." Morgan says, peering through the spyglass. "But those sure look like Valmese generals, pegasus knights, paladins."

Or maybe it _is_ the Valmese military, but disguised as pirates. "How did they know we'd be here anyways?" I question. "We're one ship in a whole ocean. Heck, why are supposed pirates operating so far out at sea in the first place?"

"Yeah." Morgan says, passing the spyglass back to her Father. "This does feel like a purposeful interception, doesn't it? How _did_ they find us?"

"Spies maybe?" Frederick says, frowning. "Or a traitor in our ranks?"

The way his gaze drifts to Henry is not subtle, and honestly I don't have a rebuttal. Sure, I don't think Henry would betray us because he cares just as little for the other side as us at the moment.

"Nathan." Robin says suddenly.

"Uh- yeah?"

"Back of the ship, behind the wheel. Who is that?" Robin says, pushing the spyglass into my hands.

It takes me a second to find the right location, but when I do I can see some generic bulky sailor at the wheel, and just behind him…

"Excellus." I say, and hand the spyglass back. "He's not supposed to be here. We're not supposed to meet him for at least a few more chapters."

"Great." Robin says. "So we're officially off script?"

"Yep."

"Fantastic." Robin mutters. He turns around and starts shouting. "All hands on deck! Mages, I need you quick! Pegasus knights, get your mounts up and in the air! Noire, we need you too!"

The Shepherds, who had been milling around, waiting for Robin to identify the three ships, quickly jump to action. Everyone who doesn't have their weapons on hand rush below deck to grab them, including me. It's a testament to everyone's speed that we're all back on deck within a minute (minus the pegasus knights, because getting pegasi up the stairs is not an easy task).

"Mages, Noire, Nathan, how far can you shoot?" Robin asks.

"Around three hundered meters." Noire murmurs.

"Less for me." I say. My crossbow is too basic, and still not of properly professional design. "Probably half that."

"A spell can fly as far as it needs to, but it will take exponentially more energy the further it flies." Miriel says.

"Most dark magic spells don't deal well at long ranges." Tharja adds. She points a thumb at Henry. "Unless _he_ knows Mire, we're even shorter range than Nathan."

"Right." Robin frowns. "Okay, standard mages, up on the bow. Noire, with them. Nathan, Tharja, Henry, stand behind them and be prepared to fire once we're in range."

"We're attacking?" Ricken asks.

"We're not outrunning them, that's for sure." Robin says. "We don't really have a choice. Kellam, bring us around to face them! Full sails!"

I can understand the logic in it. Having our ship come at them straight-on also has the benefit of reducing the area they can hit on the ship, so there's that, but…

"Did they have any ballistae or catapults?" I ask Morgan.

"Not that I saw. I don't think naval combat is developed here Nathan."

"Good." Because if they did, we would be in big trouble in this three-on-one. In a straight-up fight however, the Shepherds are elite, and I'm much less worried.

Not that I'm _happy_ that I'm going to be in a fight, but this was inevitable to an extent. If not now, I'd be fighting some other time.

Because her Father is in command. Morgan stands with the mages. Behind us I can hear Robin ordering the pegasus knights into the air, and mine and Noire's orders are quickly changed to be dealing specifically with the enemy pegasus knights.

Not sure how easy it will be to hit a moving target, but I'll try. Also, why hasn't _anyone_ taken up an advanced class? Why doesn't Vaike have a bow or something? The only people who have notably upgraded are Sully, Stahl, Donnel, and Robin.

I mean, almost everyone now has anti-cavalry and anti-armor weapons, but that's not the same.

Suddenly, I see a coalescing of green mist close to Miriel's feet (which she's too busy looking out at the opposing ship to see), and me and Morgan quickly pull her back as the mist violently comes together and punches a hole in the boards. "What the fuck was that!?" I shout.

"Mire! Excellus has mire!" Robin suddenly shouts. "He has Naga-damned mire!"

"I shouldn't have tempted fate by mentioning it." Tharja grumbles. "Of _course_ he has mire. You said Excellus was Grimleal, right Nathan?"

"Yeah."

"He can use mire to punch holes in the boat from afar. He came prepared." Tharja growls. "We need to kill him, _now_."

"Not that simple." Robin says back. "Kellam! Keep us going at full steam! Everyone, we're going to have to steal one of their ships! This one isn't making it through!"

"I guess _we're_ the pirates then." I joke quietly to Morgan, trying to calm my nerves. She nods absently, brow furrowed in concentration.

The first mire to actually connect with the ship and not manifest slowly at our feet (where it's too slow to actually hit anyone as long as they're paying attention) does so above sea level. It makes a nice hole in the side of the ship, but beyond a bit of water coming in when the nose of the ship dives into waves, the water intake is negligible.

"Think he'll figure out he has to aim below the waterline?" I ask no one in particular.

"Nathan." Morgan says.

"Yeah?"

"Shush."

"Okay." I mumble. Right. Now's not the time for commentary.

Excellus' mire continues to tear apart the ship. Robin makes a quick decision and orders Noire up with Cynthia, Miriel with Cordelia, and Laurent with Sumia.

"You need to fly on ahead and disrupt Excellus." Robin says grimly. "I know I'm asking a lot of you six considering they have their own pegasus knights, but at this rate I'm not sure the ship will make it. We're counting on you; and Miriel?"

"Yes?"

Robin beckons to Maribelle, who passes Miriel a staff.

"If you get a chance, have Cordellia landl and rescue Frederick over with the staff, and then as many other people as you can manage. I know you're not an expert with staves yet, but this is a dire situation."

"Understood. I shall not fail you." Miriel says.

"Go then, quickly." Robin urges. The pegasi fly off, and Robin immediately grimaces. "Should have told her not to warp Kellam, he still needs to steer the ship. Too late now."

" _I wonder how much stuff we're going to lose when the ship sinks._ " I think silently. I hope there's time to get my stuff from my room. It depends on how quickly we go down. I imagine supplies like food will have to come first, so best to resign myself now to losing things.

Our ship continues to sail full-speed at the Valmese ships, none of which are turning away. Mire continues to blast at our ship (and eventually Excellus _does_ figure out to hit below the sealine) right up until our pegasus knights arrive, and the mires abruptly stop.

"Coward." Robin mutters, looking through the spyglass. "One arrow, clear miss, and he dives below deck."

"At least he's out of the way." Chrom says. He's squinting at the battle. "I think Cordelia is trying to land. Frederick, prepare for teleport!"

Chrom's warning is well-timed. Half a dozen seconds later the rescue comes through, and Frederick vanishes in a swirl of green energy.

Sully and Stahl are the next to be pulled, followed by Kjelle and Vaike. More and more Shepherds continue to be pulled, so I guess rescue isn't limited to five uses.

Our ship is getting fairly close to the others now. Noire is in range and starts shooting, and soon Ricken, Morgan, and Robin are as well. Nowi and Nah, who I didn't hear orders given to, also open fire, and their dragonfire does a number on the enemies on deck. The ship Miriel was landed on is on the left, and has started to lag behind with no one manning the sails or wheel. That means we're going to meet one of the other ships first; a full fresh crew against what is swiftly becoming only half our forces.

Chrom is warped away, and Robin quickly turns to Morgan. "You're in charge when I go. I'll tell Miriel to stop. You need troops as well."

"Got it." Morgan nods. Her eyes flick to the closest ship with a frown, and starts shouting. "Nah! Now-" Nowi is abruptly pulled away. "Nah!"

"Yes?" She shouts in between fireballs.

"Be ready to carry people onto the ship! You're our only flight!"

"Got it!"

Robin is finally pulled, and the teleportations abruptly stop. We're left with the future kids (minus Cynthia, Kjelle, and Laurent), Gaius, Ricken, Gregor, Lon'qu, and Henry.

" _Time to become pirates._ " I think as we enter the last twenty meters. We're ramming apparently. I don't think this ship is built for that. Heck, I don't think the enemy ship was built for it. I back off the bow of the ship and onto the main deck.

"Impact! Brace yourselves!" Morgan shouts.

The mast is too big to hold onto, so I opt to dop onto my stomach instead. That quickly proves to be a solid choice, as the impact of the head-on collision causes both ships to come to an abrupt stop and pushes the front of both ships up in the air a bit, causing everyone who was standing and not holding something to fall backward against the cabin or the railings.

Nah is spared, because she can fly. She swoops down and grab Gregor and Lon'qu and flies them to the enemy ship.

The front of both ships is completely trashed, but amidst all that splintered wood is a connection between the decks of each ship… if you can make a solid jump.

I don't. I use my crossbow from our ship, like a sensible person. Gaius is less sensible, and jumps to the other ship. Lucina and Owain as well. Inigo and Severa look a bit more wary, and opt to wait for Nah's return.

It's different to fight professionals rather than brigands or Risen, even from a distance. The fight lacks the usual feeling of inevitable victory and is replaced with a heavy feeling in my gut of anxiety and dread. My bolts aren't as useful as they usually are. They glance off armor if the bolt hits at the wrong angle, or don't penetrate enough to hurt. Generals just do not care about my bolts, and even paladins aren't taking much either. It feels like a waste to focus on mere cavaliers and fighters, but aside from them a few archers, there's no one else I can actually hurt.

" _I'm an extra unit, what did I expect?_ " I remind myself. " _Just deal with the generics. Leave the flashy stuff to the professionals._ "

I can't hear the click of my crossbow over the sound of the waves and wind and other fighting, but people continue to fall as I continue to shoot, so I assume what I'm doing is working.

Morgan shouts orders as she slings electricity around. Despite our inferior numbers, the future kids prove they're no less strong than the Shepherds proper, and they're successfully taking on a force nearly twice their size.

Thank Naga all the pegasus knights are occupied with the other half of our forces, because that means no one is trying to get at _me_. The ship we're standing on is starting to lean heavily to one side now though. Nah better come back and get us soon.

"Nathan." Morgan says urgently.

"Yeah?"

"You know the drawer where I keep all my notes?"

"Yes." I suppose the tactics notes _would_ be the most important thing.

"Get them. Now. This ship is going down before we can come back at this rate."

"And Robin's?"

"His too. Top drawer. Stuff 'em in a bag, can sort later."

"Got it." I dash for the tilting stairway and scramble down the stairs. The water level isn't too high yet, but the lean of the ship is a dangerous obstacle all in itself. I push open the door to mine and Morgan's room only for it to slam into my face a moment later, and I push through after that. Morgan's fold-out desk has it's drawers against the close wall from how it slid, forcing me to push it around against gravity to access the drawers in question.

I grab the closest bag, mine, dump the contents (goodbye woodworking tools) and stuff the papers inside. I then navigate over to Robin's room and repeat the process with his drawer. The ship groans, and I fall against the wall as the tilt of the ship becomes even worse.

I feel like there are other important things I should be grabbing. How many people here brought personal items that are going to be entirely lost? There's no way I can look fast enough though.

The ship suddenly starts leaning much further than before. It's at the point I can't properly walk on the floor, and am walking at a forty-five degree angle. I practically have to climb out of Robin's room, and I swallow thickly when I can see a small amount of water in the hallway.

We really sank that much. Ooh Naga. You better be waiting for me up top Nah. My adrenaline pounds as I awkwardly scramble along the ship as it continues to tilt more and more sideways.

Then water suddenly rushes in from the stairs, signalling that the stairway is accessible by the waves. I reach the stairs, jump to reach the opening as water splashes me in the face and stings my eyes, and climb onto the planks making up the opening.

There's nowhere else for me to step. It's just the ocean in front of me. The railing is both too far underwater for me to jump down to, and I can't exactly jump high enough to grab the railing above me.

I don't see Nah. I stare blankly at the water. This can't really be it, can it? Drowing, with the Shepherds less than thirty meters away?

" _I hope Morgan got off._ " I think faintly. I'm vaguely aware of how I hold onto the boards and pull off my boots one-handedly. I can swim, if not for long, and not very well. I won't be able to do it with boots on though. " _I wonder if my bag floats._ "

I slide into the water, holding my bag over my shoulder to try and keep it dry because there's paper inside. The remains of the ship are currently protecting me against the worst of the waves, but that's not going to last long one way or another.

" _In hindsight, we should have had the important stuff ready on deck as soon as we realized we were sinking._ " I think. I'm fairly sure neither Robin nor Morgan has had to deal with fighting from a sinking ship before, so I don't exactly blame them for not thinking of it, especially when they have to be worried about the battles.

With our ship mostly sunk, I push off from the remaining wood towards the enemy's sinking ship. The waves aren't huge, it was mostly the wake that was causing so much water displacement, but it's not the calmest day either. I can make some headway despite being splattered in the side of my face every few seconds (also getting the bag wet, so much for that), and reach the other ship. It's sinking from the front, and the back end is already in the air. We _did_ obliterate the bow when we rammed it after all.

Still, it's something to cling to as I try to figure out where the Shepherds are. It seems that they've all congregated on the last ship, the one that wasn't the subject of either of our initial attacks. Nowi and Nah are flying overhead, as are two of the pegasus knights…

"Nathan!" Cordelia's voice is barely audible over the wind and waves and clashing of metal. She dives down low and slow, and I manage to grab her outstretched hand with mine. She then grabs my forearm with her other hand, and hauls me out of the water.

All that force on just one arm isn't pleasant, as the popping noise will attest, but you'll be surprised what adrenaline and cold water can numb. Still, dislocated arm or not, I'm now on the back of a pegasus and _not_ drowning in the water.

You think I'd be ecstatic, but I feel oddly calm. Or maybe I'm in shock. Yeah, that makes more sense than calmness. It's probably shock. I may or may not have a nervous breakdown later, but that can happen when we're _not_ in the middle of a battle.

Cordelia lands harshly on the deck of the ship she and the main force already cleared. Seeing as this boat isn't sinking, I hop off and let Cordelia return to battle.

I'd take out my crossbow, but the pain in my left arm is starting to seep through the shock and water numbness, so I let the others handle it.

My only injury from this fight is a dislocated arm from being pulled out of the water. Great. Not pathetic at all.

I stand back as the Shepherds deal with the rest of our enemies. I actually keep my eyes trained on the stairs for the ship I'm on. I don't know how thoroughly they cleared the lower decks, and I don't want some random soldier coming up and stabbing me in the back.

I'm alerted to the battle being over when I hear feet hit the deck and I get a tackle-hug from a very panicked Morgan.

"I'm fine." I say, and pat her on the back with my one uninjured arm. "I got the papers."

"Fuck the papers! You almost died!" Morgan shouts. "I'm so sorry, that was a terrible call!"

"Well yeah, but we _all_ almost died. Besides, I probably had a few minutes left. " I say. "Plenty of time. Also, you had no idea how fast the ship would sink. Also also, mind my arm, I think it's dislocated."

That gets me a quick look from Maribelle, a quick relocation, and a wave of a heal staff. I probably had a torn muscle or two, so that's why the heal staff was needed at all.

Heal staves feel _weird_ by the way. Healing magic is cold, numb, and leaves the healed area aching. Better than pain though.

Morgan keeps fussing over me and trying to apologize about something she couldn't have known, but I kick that conversation down the road as all the Shepherds search through the ships to find what resources we've been left with.

There's plenty of food, so no problem there. We've lost all our personal effects though, which many people aren't happy about, and that includes all our cavaliers' mounts because we didn't spend the time getting them above deck like the pegasi. We also lost a lot of money, some extra anti-armor and anti-mount weapons, and of course the personal effects (which is what the majority of the Shepherds are concerned about, minus Robin, Chrom, and Frederick who are more worried about the tactical issues).

I lost all my games and all the woodworking projects I've made. I also lost all my notes about Awakening, though I'm fairly sure Morgan keeps a copy of the core stuff in her coat, and there are plenty of other copies back in Ylisse. A bunch of stuff about Earth is gone though. Some of it was left back at the barracks, but most of it came with me.

Morgan lost stuff too of course, but by her own admittance the only personal item she really cares about is her coat, which she has on her. I imagine other people care a bit more about this than she does. Her and Robin's notes are somewhat damaged but mostly intact, which is good.

The afternoon is spent searching our supplies, locating paper and ink, and sorting out sleeping quarters and how to actually sail the ship. It's a different design than our Feroxi ship, but we figure it out well enough to sail it.

I also learn that Excellus was nowhere to be found. Somehow he got off the ship. Teleportation of some sort, obviously.

Dinner is a late and subdued affair. The sky is very nearly dark by the time food meets anyone's tongue. Morgan doesn't try to bring up the "you almost died" thing over dinner, which is probably for the best considering how many people are around. In fact, we barely talk at all. _Everyone_ barely talks. No one has the strength for it right now.

There's no talk even when we go back to our rooms. Morgan wordlessly climbs into bed with me when we put out the lantern, and I don't argue. For once we don't go back-to-back and Morgan cuddles me, tucking my head under her chin.

All things considered, it's a pleasant way to go to sleep. It does wonders for keeping less pleasant things like almost dying off my mind long enough to go to sleep.

###

"Seriously Morgan, it was a mistake. You know little about boats." I soothe.

"My first real battle, and I almost get you _killed_ , and not even by enemies!" Morgan insists. "That's-"

"Reasonable considering the situation? Yeah, it is." I cut her off. "Come on Morgan, those notes were valuable. You and Robin have been planning for months, we couldn't just let all that go to waste because we couldn't be bothered to grab some papers. It's not like you asked me to get the horses. Now _that_ would have been stupid."

"Yeah…"

"Because I've basically never handled horses."

"Oh _that's_ why it would have been stupid?" Morgan huffs. "Not that the horses were on a lower level and don't handle stairs well?"

"Whaaat? No, of course not." I say. "What's with this _logic_ you're spouting? Pff."

With that conversation successfully(?) defused, other matters come to the forefront. It's not trauma (I'm still ignoring that, mostly) or anything. No, it's… boredom.

Turns out losing all your personal items, including games and books and such, means that there's not a whole lot of stuff to do beyond chores, and those only last so long.

I never thought I'd say chores are a _good_ thing, but they are a distraction if nothing else.

The only other major distraction then is other people, and even me and Morgan can only talk so much before we run out of things to say in one sitting without anything new going on.

Or, well, that _would_ be the case if the future kids didn't provide ample entertainment.

"Owain Dark, master of shadows-!" Owain shouts, raising a sword.

"-and Cynthia Dawn, mistress of light!" Cynthia raises her spear.

"Together, we are the Justice Cabal!" They shout in unison, with Owain taking a knee and swinging his sword to the left, while Cynthia keeps standing and aims her spear to the right. They hold that position for a few seconds before dropping it.

"Hmm, something's missing." Owain says.

"Yeah. It doesn't feel _powerful_ enough. We're just swinging weapons." Cynthia nods in agreement. "Maybe we need to get more into it? I bet if we lean back while swinging out weapons, it'll look cooler because it will look like we're striking _behind_ each other rather than just fighting next to each other."

"A fantastic idea, fellow hero!" Owain cries. "Let us rehearse again!"

The two of them keep going through this routine several times, and to be clear they're doing this up on deck where many people can watch them, and they're sort of hard to ignore. It's like having a play on the deck that you don't have an option but to watch.

That's not the only entertainment though, at least for me. Ever since Nah kind of asked me for advice, I've been keeping an eye and ear out for anything involving her and Laurent. For her part, Nah had that _one_ not-really-a-date with Laurent, and hasn't done anything since.

That's not the end of it though. Nah has returned to being a weird stalker, but Laurent hasn't. I don't know if something finally clicked in his head, or if there's some outside reason, but he has been trying to spend more time with Nah.

However… well… this usually happens.

I'm sitting in the mess room at the time, eating Lunch with Morgan and Inigo. They're occupied talking to each other about their parents ("Why hasn't Father made a move yet!?"), and I'm only half-listening. Nah is at the table next to us, eating a whole pig by herself.

Manaketes can fucking _eat_ by the way. Nowi tends to shovel down even more than Nah. Turning into a dragon takes a lot of energy I guess.

Anyhow, Laurent walks in purposefully, making a straight line towards Nah. it grabs my attention immediately, as it does Nah's whose shoulders immediately hunch.

"Nah! I've been looking for you!" Laurent says. "I have a request."

"I'm busy." Nah says quickly.

"I'm flexible." Laurent responds just as quickly. "My schedule can be easily shifted."

"I-"

"Perhaps you'd like to know what I'm requesting first?"

"Fine." Nah says anxiously.

"I would like to request your assistance with an experiment." He says. "I wish to conduct an experiment testing the ability of dragonfire to boil water."

"Is that it?" Nah asks warily.

"Yes."

"You're telling the truth?"

"Of course."

"Fine, I'll help." Nah says tersely. "After I'm done."

"Of course. I shall await you up on deck." With that, Laurent sweeps out of the room, his expression totally neutral and giving nothing away.

I stare pointedly at Nah until I catch her eye, and then I raise an eyebrow with the silent question of " _what the heck was that?_ "

A blush creeps up her neck, and he firmly returns to her food and refuses to look my way for the rest of her meal, at which point she all but runs out of the room.

I wonder what happened. By all accounts that first totally-not-a-date went well, so I don't know why Nah makes such an effort to turn Laurent's attempts to spend time with her, and thoroughly scrubs his advances of any possible romantic implications with her suspicion.

I really don't get it. She was anxious but willing before. What changed? It's possible Laurent did something weird, but my bet is on Nah being the cause. She's eccentric and idiosyncratic, though in a confusing, unclear way unlike Owain or Cynthia who are also both eccentric and idiosyncratic but are pretty easy to read.

Then again I'm usually terrible at reading people and situations, so my guess could be way off. Still, maybe I should try to talk to Nah again at some point. It worked before.

Anyhow, the future kids are entertaining. Some might say "annoying" more than entertaining, but distraction is distraction. Anything to break the monotony of endless ocean.

###

"You two sent magic messages, right?" Robin says without preamble as he walks into mine and Morgan's room (after knocking, of course). "To Henry and Lucina?"

"Uh, yeah." I say. I glance at Morgan, who gives a confused shrug. "We did. Why?"

"Our movements were predicted." He says, thrusting a paper into Morgan's hands. She immediately starts reading it. Robin sits down on a bed and rubs his forehead. "Apparently Excellus had a contact in Plegia who listened in on your conversations with Henry and Lucina, and after you mentioned the Shepherds had just gotten into Ferox and were headed to Pinkwood, they made a rough guess as to our timeframe and used that to intercept us."

"He's telling the truth." Morgan mutters, handing the paper back to her Father. "I didn't know intercepting magic messages was a _thing_ , and I didn't figure they could predict our movements so accurately from information that vague."

"I speculate they must have had someone in Pinkwood who sent a magic message of their own the exact day we left." Robin says. "And since intercepting magic messages either requires focus at the exact time the message is being sent, or an expensive ritual spell cast on an object to make it a permanent detector, we obviously wouldn't have intercepted such a message in return."

"Well… shit." I say. I don't know what to say. Am I in trouble? Is Morgan in trouble? Morgan shouldn't be in trouble. It was my suggestion to message Lucina and Henry. "That means they also know the nature of the future kids then."

Robin frowns and nods. "That wasn't mentioned, but I'll keep that in mind."

"Also, what's the paper? You said they sent a _magic_ message ahead." I ask.

"Notes from what we assume is Excellus' room." Robin says. "He pulled together most of the papers before he left, but not all of them."

"I see."

"How many Chon'sinese ships did they have to get past to get all the way around the continent to intercept us?" Morgan wonders. "They invested a lot of effort into this interception."

"Indeed." Robin says grimly. "Incidentally, don't send any more magic messages."

"Got it." Morgan says.

I nod my head. "Noted." I guess this clears Henry of suspicion at least, though that's small consolation considering me and Morgan directly caused everyone to lose all their personal possessions.

I think Morgan came to the same conclusion, because she asks: "Who knows?"

"Myself, Chrom, Maribelle, Frederick, Lucina." Robin says. "Though, I doubt the information can stay secret forever. The Shepherds want answers as to why we were ambushed when we assumed we'd be safe."

"Right." Morgan says. She glances at me. "We need a plan."

"Uhh… mind control."

"I like it, but we can't do that. Next plan."

"I'm glad you think so highly of the Shepherds' emotional control." Robin says dryly. He stands up from the bed. "Also, please tell me if you're going to do anything unusual from now on that might, in any way, impact the army."

I can tell immediately that Morgan wants to make a joke about that, so I say, "Understood." before she can comment. Robin nods tiredly, and leaves.

"Do you think that's because he's worried I might be a screamer when we eventually have-"

I chop Morgan on the head (lightly) before she can finish that sentence. "I _knew_ you were going to say something like that."

"You know me so well."

"Besides, I think he'd be more concerned about the fact you were doing the deed in the first place." I say.

"Maybe he's jealous because he isn't getting action."

You know, most people would _avoid_ any thought of their parents doing that. "I'm fairly sure that's not the case." Though it would be mildly amusing if it was. "How worried are we about everyone learning we caused them to lose everything?"

"Sort of?" Morgan frowns. "Honestly I have no idea. I don't think the future kids are going to be too angry about it, they keep all their important stuff on them because of being on the move all the time. The first generation might not be too happy though."

So the more scary people. Yaaay…

"Don't worry though, If they try anything, I'll stab them." Morgan says, brandishing a dagger from the depths of her coat.

"Restrain your Yandere. I don't think there will be _that_ big of a problem." I say.

"Me neither, but I thought it was funny."

###

"Nah…"

"It's nothing." She says, refusing to look at me standing across the table from her. She fiddles with a bowl of food that's _clearly_ finished already.

I cross my arms. "Bullshit. What's going on?"

"With what? I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing's going on." The manakete mumbles.

"You already said 'it's nothing', so you clearly know what I'm talking about." I say. "Nah, come on, what's the problem with Laurent?"

"None of your business." Nah says. "It's _my_ relationship."

"Yeah, and you were doing well before." I say. "So what happened? You're not being a stalker anymore-"

"I was _not_ a stalker!"

That's a blatant lie. "-but now you're actively pushing him away. What's up?"

"I am not…"

"Nah." I say flatly, and take a seat next to her. "Literally no one is fooled."

Nah sighs. Her fingers tighten around her bowl. "I realized he's human."

Well yeah, of course he is. "And…? Is this the same issue as before? You don't have a hundred years to build up your courage?"

That gets a small glare out of her. "I was _joking_ about that, and no."

Sure you were. "So what's the problem?"

"He's not going to live as long as me." Nah says. "In eighty years maximum he'll be gone, and I'll still be here."

"Well yeah, but unless you can find some male manaketes, and one that you like, humans are kinda your only option for romance." I say bluntly.

"Yeah, I know, thanks." She snaps. "How's that supposed to help?"

"Because you know there's no way around it. Not yet, at least." I say quietly. "I'm not one to say 'get over it', you're well within your right to despise the fact that humans die so quickly."

Nah is silent, listening warily.

"But that doesn't mean you should never get close to them. Like… you know dogs?"

"You're going to compare humans to _dogs_?" Nah scoffs.

"Yes." I say honestly. "Because it's a good comparison. If you've ever had a pet dog, you know how quickly they become family, and when they die it's sad, but it doesn't mean you regret loving them, or don't go find a new one once you've recovered. It's not dishonoring their memory by taking in another dog."

"You think I should look at humans like dogs?" Nah frowns. "Cycle through them?"

It sounds callous when you put it that way. "Sort of. I'm more saying you don't have to keep your distance. Yes, loving a human is signing yourself up for eventual heartbreak, but that doesn't mean the time is wasted. Besides, from a purely selfish standpoint, you can live your life in distinct phases by having human partners. Once one partner is gone, you have a chance to do something else, unbound by the necessary settling down or compromising that marriage entails, until you find someone else that you don't mind binding yourself to for a while."

"I… yeah…" Nah frowns. "It feels wrong to think that way though."

"Maybe." I shrug. "I'm not a manakete. I'm making suggestions based on speculation and how authors in my world usually handled immortal or long-lived characters. I have no idea how applicable they are. If you want real, concrete advice rather than speculation, ask Nowi or wait to ask Tiki. Heck, ask Naga. She might be able to tell you something."

I lean forward and poke her forehead.

"But either way I think we both know you're not cut out to be a recluse, so you're going to be dealing with humans no matter what. It's just a matter of _how_ you deal with us. In this case, you like Laurent. You're only going to make yourself more miserable by intentionally pushing him away. At the very worst, he'll be a learning experience… and he'd probably be happy about that."

"He's not weird!" Nah almost shouts.

That makes me smile. I forgot how weirdly protective she was. "I didn't say anything."

"You implied it!"

"It's your imagination." I say, trying not to let my amusement show. "Your totally-not-boyfriend is very normal. I'm sure obsessively studying everything and messing with dragonfire is totally normal."

Nah narrows her eyes. "I will _eat_ you."

"Kinky." I say, and then remember I'm dealing with Nah and not Morgan. "Sorry. Morgan is a bad influence."

Nah narrows her eyes at me. "I'm worried about you two now."

"You don't get to say that, Miss Stalker."

"I am _not_!"

"Lies~!" I sing.

Nah's face scrunches up at me. "I hate you."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"Also thank you."

"Any time. Seriously though, consider talking to your Mother. I'm neither a manakete nor a genius."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Conflict? How rare.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan.

"Noire, did you take my hexing materials?!" Tharja shouts across the ship with no regard for the people here trying to enjoy a nice day at sea.

Who am I kidding? We all stopped enjoying the sea after two weeks, much less two months.

"Those sunk, Mother!" Noire shouts in return, more out of necessity of speaking over the waves than because she wants to shout.

"Right." The dark mage says, her mouth turning up into a sneer. "I don't suppose you'd donate some of your blood to help refill my stock then?"

Noire shakes her head.

"Hmph, fine, tell me if you find someone who will." Tharja says. She turns around and stalks down below deck, throwing a parting: "I have a _lot_ to replenish."

Noire narrows her eyes at her Mother's retreating form, and then returns to face me, holding up her sword. "Sorry about her…"

"I was expecting worse, honestly." I say. "Passive-aggressiveness is better than outright hostility."

We both know Tharja didn't have to ask that _now_ , when she had no other business above deck and Noire is otherwise busy. No, the only reason Tharja bothered to ask now was because she knew Noire was training with _me_ , and that I'd be here to hear it. That was a move of intentional spite.

This isn't the first incident either. The Shepherds aren't exactly happy that me and Morgan are more-or-less responsible for them losing all their personal possessions. Of course, it's easier to be snide towards the outworlder than the lead tactician's daughter, so as far as I'm aware (unless Morgan has been keeping silent about it) I'm getting most of the consequences.

Not that they're significant consequences considering how much me and Morgan caused them to lose. I was also correct in my prediction that the future kids basically didn't care, it was par for the course as far as they were concerned.

"Still…"

"You're not responsible for your mother, Noire." I soothe, and bring up my own sword. "Ready?

"I guess."

Sparring has become slightly less one-sided since the Shepherds' intensive training back at one of Duke Crius' forts. I don't mean that I ever _win_ , but our skill gap is less drastic.

Though I imagine that's mostly because it's easy to improve at something when you sucked to start with, and it's much harder to improve when you're already good.

Fighting on the boat is always annoying. The swaying of the ship is something we've all gotten used to, but it does make it harder to make the quick foot movements necessary for melee combat. It's easy to be thrown off-balance.

Incidentally, Noire has fantastic balance. I do not. I blame Gaius for passing down some of his thief-ness to Noire.

"So," I say, after losing yet another round. Noire faked a stab and I tried to deflect it, and she got in a swipe from the side. "Has anything of interest happened in the last few weeks? I mean, I know there's only so much that can happen, but…"

If we weren't on the ship I would ask this question some other time, but me and Noire really haven't had much time to have our usual knitting sessions. I am- _was-_ rather busy with woodworking, chores, and Morgan, and Noire has been learning dark magic from Tharja which has kept her quite occupied.

"Mother has been… Mother." Noire mumbles. "Otherwise, there's not all that much I _can_ do after the accident. I lost all my supplies."

"Ah." Right, maybe I shouldn't have asked. "Erm… did you lose your ring?"

"No." She pulls (future) Tharja's ring out of her pocket. All the future kids have one, minus Morgan and Lucina because their other sibling has it. "We keep the rings on us specifically so we don't lose them if we have to leave somewhere quickly."

"Good." I say in slight relief. I imagine the future kids would be a lot more angry if I'd caused them to lose their rings.

"By the way, did you say something to Nah again?"

"Pardon?"

"She suddenly stopped avoiding Laurent, did you say something?" Noire asks. Then, before I can answer she says: "Well, I know you said something already. I talked to Nah, and she gave you credit."

"I assure you, whatever she said, she gave me too much."

"She said you called her a stalker until she stopped worrying about Laurent out of spite."

"Nevermind, that's exactly the right amount of credit." Granted, that was how our first talk went and not the second one, but it's more funny this way.

"S-So, I was w-wondering…" Noire stammers. "I-If you could help me too."

It takes me a moment to figure out what that means. "Wait, you mean for a relationship?"

"Yes."

What the fuck? Why am _I_ the relationship advice guy? I'm flattered of course, but this is weird. "With all due respect, I can think of a dozen other people who would be better to ask than me."

"Not really." Noire flushes. "Y-You're the least scary, and won't mock me, and your advice has worked before."

I can't really argue with that. "Well alright then. If you're sure. I'm happy to help if I can. What's the problem?"

"There isn't much of a problem yet… because there isn't anything yet." Noire admits sheepishly.

Ahh, so a similar situation to Nah initially but less stalker-y? "Feeling shy?"

"Yes…" Noire mumbles.

Sounds to me less that she needs advice and more that she just wants someone to talk to. Still, my inner shipper is delighted by this. "Why, exactly?"

"W-Well… remember what we've talked about before?"

"You mean you being worried about turning out like your mother?"

"Yes."

"Noire…" I say softly.

"I know, I know!" She wrings her hands. "I probably won't turn out like her! Th-That's not exactly what I mean. I'm not worried about being _mean_ , I'm worried about being weird."

"You're a semi-traumatized dimension hopper from an apocalyptic future, I'm afraid you can't do much about that." I tease.

"Not that!" Noire huffs. "Brady is-" She freezes. "Uh…"

"Brady huh?" I say, smiling. My favourite pairing, what a pleasant surprise. "My, a taste for royals. Go right for the money, huh?"

"Nooo!" Noire hides her face in her hands. "That's not it!"

"I know Noire." I say, and pat her shoulder. "I'm joking. In seriousness, you're no weirder than him. He might not act it most of the time, but he's plenty odd. There's nothing to worry about on that end."

"Oh, good."

I'm surprised she's willing to simply take my word for it. Outside information privilege, or trust? Both? Does it matter? Not really. "Was that all? Only general nerves aside from that?"

"W-Well…" She glances from side to side. There are plenty of people on the deck, but no one is paying particular attention to us, and the ocean waves muffle our voices to anyone not immediately around us. Her fingers nervously twine together. Her voice lowers, and I have to lean in to hear her speak. "I'm always being stared at whenever we enter a town or village or just meet new people, so I wanted to know if there's something off with the way I look…?"

An amused smile crosses my face. Noire's shoulder's hunch, maybe thinking I'm not taking this seriously, so I speak quickly to placate her. "Noire, your appearance is just about the last thing you're _ever_ going to need to worry about."

"Wh-What? What do you mean?" Noire asks anxiously.

"If there's one thing you got from Tharja, it's her looks." I say. "And, at least where I come from, Tharja is unambiguously considered one of, if not _the_ most attractive person in the game. If people are staring, it's not because there's something wrong. Likely they're staring for the exact opposite reason."

Noire's face flushes red again. "O-Oh."

"So yeah, don't worry about it. You're more than fine on that front." I reassure her.

"Th-Thanks." She mumbles. "Uh… I should mention… I already asked Severa, and she told me the same as you basically, but I just wanted someone else to say it. Sorry for being selfish."

"S'fine." I say. "Always nice to hear it from another person."

"Yes." She nods. "And, uh, hearing it from a boy…"

Considering the topic, fair enough. "You could always talk to Inigo if you need reassurances about yourself." I suggest jokingly.

Noire scrunches up her nose at me. " _Sincere_ words from a boy."

"I'm sure Inigo will be offended."

"Don't tell him about this." Noire says quickly.

"I won't, it was a joke." I soothe.

We go back to sparring after that. I still lose a lot.

###

"You can't make me!"

"I can and I will."

"No!"

"Yes."

Morgan glares at me as I daintily pick up the papers she was staring at and pointedly move them aside. "I'm not done!"

"You've been studying for nine hours."

"And I'm making _progress_!"

"Good. Then you've done enough for the day."

"No! I have to keep studying! We're going to _war_ Nathan!"

"That's been the case for the last two months, and you haven't been studying this much for more than a few days." I reply. "Clearly it's not necessary."

"I was being foolish!"

"No, you were being reasonable with how much work you could be expected to do in a day." I say. "Overworking yourself today will only make tomorrow that much less efficient."

"Says you!"

"Says _science_."

"Fucking science…"

"Now come on, up, time for dinner."

"Up? Did you seriously just say 'up'?" Morgan frowns. "Like I'm a _child_?"

"Yes." I say without a hint of remorse.

"I'm taller than you Nathan!"

"And I'm older. Your point?"

"I'm an adult! You can't tell me to 'up'!"

"You don't look like an adult."

Morgan abruptly pushes out her chair and the legs grind against the floor. She stands up to her full height, which is a head and a half taller than me now (she's _still_ growing? Geeze) and puts her hands on her hips while glaring down at me. "Oh really?"

"Yep." I say, popping the P sound. I reach up and squish her cheeks. "Hard to look adult when you're grumpy."

Her nose scrunches up in indignation. I think she was going to make a comment about how she can't be a child if she's so attractive, but I took the wind right out of her sails by focusing on her attitude rather than her appearance.

"And look, you're up!" I say in as sweet and patronizing a voice as I can manage. "Good girl!"

"I hate you Nathan."

"Love you too dear." I say with a grin. "Now, come come, dinner time."

"Don't you 'come come' me." She grumbles, but does indeed follow me out the door. "Even if I'm a kid, I'm not a _dog_."

"I dunno…" I tease. "I distinctly remember you accepting me calling you a bitch at some point, and that's a dog in case you forgot."

Her eyes narrow, and I smile innocently. "I guess I'm not snuggling _you_ tonight."

"Oh? You're sleeping on the floor?"

"Wha-? No!" Morgan protests. "If anything, _you_ should-!"

"Me? Because _you're_ being grumpy?" I say. "How unjust! I've only tried to make you have dinner and relax!"

Morgan is thoroughly frustrated by this point, reinforced by the fact that while (admittedly) I'm being a complete asshole about it, I _am_ technically telling the truth. "I hate you Nathan."

"You already said that."

"It bears repeating."

"Well that's just rude." I say, still smiling. "And I was only trying to be nice too."

Morgan glares again, and I finally decide to drop the act. She'll find this funny in retrospect (as in, when she wakes up tomorrow), but for now she's not in the mood.

"Seriously though." I drop the half-humming voice I use when teasing. "Working for that long on the same thing can't be good for you. Did you even have lunch?"

"Yes!" She protests. "I did! I'm not incompetant!"

"Good."

"I mean, Dad got me lunch." Morgan admits after a second. "At three in the afternoon, but I _did_ have lunch."

I shake my head. "Not helping your case for not being a child if your parents have to get your meals for you."

"Shut up." She grumbles, but the annoyance in her voice is already mostly gone. "Dad only got it because _you_ didn't."

"Oh? I'm a servant now?"

"Well your job is to do most of the chores…"

"Fair point. That's pretty servant-ish."

"So I would have my boyfriend getting my meals, not Father, if everything went according to plan." She huffs.

"Much less childish."

"Exactly. You'd be a good boyfriend doting on me rather than having fun with _other_ girls." She says.

I roll my eyes fondly. "Uh-huh."

"Can't have Noire stealing my boyfriend."

"You know Noire. A regular homewrecker that one."

"Exactly."

"Actually, she ended up asking me for advice on how to deal with Brady, so just about the opposite of a homewrecker."

Morgan blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Yep."

"That's… wow. Okay then. Not to sound rude, but why _you_? By your own admittance you're fumbling your way through our own relationship."

"Something about me not being scary." I shrug. "And me being a boy. That was important too."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"Does this officially make you the advice guy? Dispenser of outworld wisdom? Because that's both Nah and Noire who've come to you for advice now."

"Nah didn't come to me."

"But she listened, didn't she?"

"True…"

"So there you have it. You're the advice guy."

Two people listening to me makes me the advice guy? "Whatever you say Morgan."

"I mean, technically the entire military of Ylisse is listening to your advice in case you forgot, because it's _your_ notes we're basing our war plan on."

Fair point. No pressure. Also, Morgan is in a much better mood now. Unintentional success?

Dinner is a quiet affair, mostly because we're getting dinner later than most so there's very few people. As we eat I search Morgan's face and I can see the redness in her eyes from the strain of looking at small text all day. She's not as energetic as she usually is either. No lewd jokes, minimal banter (and all at my instigation), and a lot of minor stretching.

Morgan hasn't exercised yet today, has she? No wonder she was so grumpy. I guess I'm dragging her above deck before we turn in for the night. I don't like exercise, but it's useful enough that I can't ignore it.

Predictably, Morgan isn't exactly happy about me prodding her up to the deck a short while after dinner, but I use the power of _science_ to convince her to come up and do some sparring.

"If I wanted to exercise I could do it in our room." Morgan complains when I push a wooden sword into her hand.

"There's barely space to do push ups in our room, much less anything more substantial." I scoff.

"I could… uh…"

"My point exactly."

"I wasn't done! I was going to say _we_ could wrestle."

I raise an eyebrow. "You know, if you weren't tired and unenthusiastic right now, that might actually sound suggestive."

Morgan groans and her shoulders sag. "Well, I just wasted perfectly good material then."

"You did." I nod. "Don't flirt when you're tired."

"That's the lesson." Morgan agrees. "I'm still going to win this spar even if I'm tired, by the way."

"I don't doubt it."

And win she does. In fact, I'm probably more tired than she is by the time we're done a few rounds, because I spent the day sparring with Noire, doing chores, and helping reorganize all the supplies we commandeered from the two surviving Chon'sinese pirate ships (incidentally, we scuttled the other one after determining it would be too much effort to man both ships).

At least Morgan seems less grumpy now that she's gotten an opportunity to actually release her energy. It's weird how you can be tired from _not_ doing anything as much as you can from doing too much.

I'm going to have to pay more attention to Morgan overworking herself. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. She's had plenty of late nights; Robin too now that I think of it. As much as I don't want to police her actions, _someone_ has to make sure she keeps a healthy schedule, and if it's not going to be Robin it's gotta be me.

I mean, I'm going to keep an eye on her either way, so I guess that's a moot point.

###

"After we get back from this war, I'm done with boat travel for the rest of my life." Is the first thing Severa says when she steps off the boat and onto Chon'sinese soil. She promptly trips on flat ground because we're all used to the rocking floor of the boat and nearly topples off the dock into the water.

With that in mind, me and Morgan take much more caution in our descent. We're already stumbling like drunks, we don't need a soaking to reinforce the idea thank you very much.

"Nya ha ha! Wow! This must be what it feels like to be dying! Cool!" Henry says cheerfully as he wobbles around on the dock. He's the only one of the Shepherds that is amused by this.

Soon enough someone responsible for recording ships that come and go from the docks (I don't know the term. Wharfmaster? Portmaster? Something like that) comes to figure out who the fuck we are and consequently runs off to get someone more important after fiding out that we're the Shepherds.

Soon enough the Shepherds find themselves being escorted to… somewhere (I can't understand what the man is saying through his accent) while Chrom and Robin explain the attack at sea.

There's brief confusion over exactly where us Shepherds are going to be housed because half of us are some type of aristocracy rather than random villagers who enlisted- although some of us are also that- so they don't want to shove us to some campsite and risk being seen as rude. Chrom and Robin and their associated family members are offered rooms at some important-looking building, and the rest of us get spots at a decent inn.

Morgan forgoes staying with her Father in preference for staying with me. It's unclear exactly what the Shepherds are supposed to do (aside from Chrom and Robin who are going to be spending a long-ass time talking with the military guy, I didn't catch his rank), so everyone naturally goes shopping to recoup all the things they've lost.

Me and Morgan do the same, but as there is surprisingly little we need to buy that won't be purchased by the Shepherds as a whole (I need new woodworking tools and Morgan needs some more ink and quills, and we both need backpacks) we decide to explore the city.

By that I mean that _I_ decide to explore the city and drag Morgan along so she doesn't spend five hours squinting at a map.

"I was _not_ going to do that." Morgan protests when I bring it up.

I raise an eyebrow at her in disbelief.

"I had at _least_ two maps."

"So much better."

"I need to study Nathan! You never know what situation we're going to run into!"

"I know."

"And it's better to over-prepare than under-prepare."

"I know."

"Then why are you stopping me!?"

"Because you've already studied for four hours today, and I know you're going to be looking at those maps as soon as we get back up until you go to sleep, so you're going to be doing plenty of study today despite this one or two hour diversion." I say. "But you shouldn't study literally all day long, so shut up and do something else for an hour damnit."

"I could eat."

"For an _hour_?"

"Throughout the day... total. While working."

I give her a flat, unimpressed look. She huffs.

"Nathaaan."

"Not gonna be swayed by that Morgan."

"Fine." She mutters. "I liked it better when _I_ was in charge…"

"You can go back to being in charge when you aren't spending nine hours a day staring at the same piece of paper and ruining your eyes." I say. "I'm just 'being a good boyfriend' as you'd say."

"I know, I agree, and I hate it."

"I'll give you a massage or something to make you less grumpy when we get back."

"Don't you bribe me… but I accept."

###

"Nathan, buddy, pal!"

I give the man a side-eye as he throws an arm around my shoulders. "Inigo."

"Listen, I've got a little request."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow. If this is his standard request of trying to get someone to be his wingman, I'm saying no. "And what's that?"

"You know things, right?"

"Yes…" I guess I am the advice guy.

"Tell me how to pick up girls."

"Uh… that's one of the few things I can't help you with." I cough.

"That sounds like a lie to me. You can advise Nah and Noire, but not me?" Inigo scoffs. "I don't believe for a second you can advise a girl and not _me_."

"It's a lot easier to explain what a theoretical boy might like, because I _am_ one, than a theoretical girl." I say flatly. "So no, it's _much_ easier to advise Noire or Nah than you."

"But you know body language and stuff, right?"

"To a very basic extent." I admit, then frown. "Where did you hear that? That's not knowledge I just throw around."

"Morgan knows about it, so I assume you taught her."

"As a matter of fact, I did _not_ teach her." She learned that from Anna and from experimentation.

"Whatever. You can still help me."

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm pretty sure body language isn't going to save you. Your problem is that you're a sleaze, not that you don't pose currently."

"Hey now, I see a nice girl and I ask for her company, is that so wrong?"

"Yes."

"Well aren't you a killjoy…" He mutters. "I just want a fun date, you act like I'm planning to rob them."

Rob them of their time and good mood maybe, but perhaps I am being a bit uncharitable towards him. After all I know the game, so I know all Inigo's more distasteful actions are to put on a carefree front and aren't necessarily intended to be as sleazy as they come off.

Fine, fine. I guess I can take pity on him. "Fine. I guess I can offer a bit of help, but there really is only so much I _can_ offer." I sigh. "So, believe it or not, women lead the metaphorical dance-"

"I'd like to think I'm a bit more forward than most." Inigo interrupts.

"Yeah, and that's why you fail so often." I say bluntly. "Cold calling is an exercise in futility. Some people can pull it off, but you clearly aren't one of them judging by your track record. If you don't get the go ahead first, you're probably just going to be an unwelcome intruder rather than a pleasant surprise."

"Fine then, what's this 'go ahead' you're talking about?" Inigo asks skeptically.

"A bunch of small things actually. Fleeting eye contact, smiles, playing with hair, pelvic tilt, small amounts of self touching- don't give me that look, I mean the neck and whatnot- tilting the head…"

"But- but- those are all really common things."

"I know."

"How are you supposed to tell what's flirtation and what's not!?"

"I have no idea."

Inigo throws up his hands. "Well thanks for nothing then!"

"Hey, I said there was only so much I could offer. Just because I know the signals doesn't mean I can distinguish flirtation from normal actions." I shrug. "I know the theory of flirtation, that's about it."

"But Morgan-"

"Was _way_ more upfront than is standard and outright told me she was interested; not to mention me and Morgan are really weird." I say flatly. "It had nothing to do with me figuring out flirtation cues. Actually, you could probably ask Morgan about flirtation and get better advice. She's studied this shit for her politics work."

"Tried that. She said she'd rather let me struggle."

Yeah, that's about what I expect out of Morgan. "Well then… I dunno, ask someone, a girl, and actually listen. Ask Severa."

"Are you crazy?"

Apparently. Out of all the people I could have suggested I said _Severa_? What was I thinking? "Fine, ask Cynthia. Noire. Sumia even. Then actually listen to what they say. Either that or pay attention when you make future attempts. Try to figure out what constitutes a cue and what's normal. These cues wouldn't be around if they weren't recognizable to some extent."

"And if I can't do either of those things?"

"Then you're shit out of luck. Beg Morgan more or something."

"Well you're not helpful." Inigo complains.

"Well excuse me." I say, not bothering to disguise the annoyance in my voice. "I'm hardly an expert. I've given you as much information as I can for you to work with. Take it or leave it."

"Your information is useless though! You already said there's no difference from normal behaviour!"

"No, I said _I_ can't recognize the difference from normal behaviour. If you can't either, that's your problem."

"But-"

"Are we done here? Or do you want to keep complaining that I don't know more about this one specific thing that I told you up front I didn't know too much about?"

Inigo glares at me and stomps off. I sneer at his back as he leaves.

###

"-a dozen replacement steel swords, axes, spears, and bows, thirty javelins, five hundered arrows, three warhorses, half a dozen draft horses to pull the carts… anything I'm missing? Anything I should take off?"

Cordelia looks over my list with a critical eye. "Why so many weapons?" Her tone is even, not challenging. This is a test. Cordelia is the Shepherds' unofficial quartermaster, and I'm still learning how to identify how many supplies we need at any given time.

"Well, as much as I realize everyone still has their backup weapons, weapons will still break or get lost. Our group isn't massive, so I doubt we need an excessive amount, but I figured a dozen of each should cover a decent length of time."

"You're not wrong." Cordelia nods, and I feel relief that my logic was acceptable. "However, you've made one miscalculation."

"Which is?"

"We need fewer swords and more lances." Cordelia says. "Six and twenty, I think. Spears tend to break more than other weapons as their shafts might snap when used with sufficient force or hit by an enemy in the right place. Swords are rarely lost or disarmed and all of their dents can be sharpened out, necessitating fewer outright replacements. Axes are somewhere in the middle, mostly due to how unwieldy they can be."

"Right." I mutter, and hastily make an edit to the list. "Anything else?"

"Food."

I stare at my list, flipping from page to page. "Uh… yeah." I say, disappointed in myself. "Food would be a good idea."

Cordelia only smiles and shakes her head. "I can't understand how you always forget something, and something different every time no less."

"My memory is awful, sue me."

"You can recall an entire game, but not what amounts to an extended shopping list?"

"Fine, my memory is highly specific in what it cares to remember. Better?"

"More accurate perhaps, though I wouldn't say _better_." Cordelia hums. "I think you've done well for everything else. I'll run it by Robin after you're done adding food to the list. Perhaps our grand tactician has a plan which will require some special supplies."

I doubt it. I make a quick calculation for how much food we're going to need for the next few months and write it down. My handwriting is sloppy compared to Cordelia's, despite my best efforts to write slowly and carefully. It probably doesn't help that I'm printing in comparison to Cordelia's beautiful cursive.

I shouldn't be surprised, I haven't done much writing since we left Ylisstol all those months ago.

Cordelia snaps up the list once I'm done writing and gives me a short nod as a goodbye before walking off to find Robin. That leaves me to find something to do, which is harder than you might expect. Because we're travelling through Chon'sin to the Mila Tree, we're stopping in inns rather than camping so there are no camp chores for me to do. It makes my life a lot easier, but with Morgan constantly busy and without any money- Morgan would absolutely give me some of hers if I asked, but I'd hate to _still_ be taking her money two years into living in this world- to buy new woodworking supplies because all my money sunk with the ship, I haven't gotten my next paycheck (or whatever it's called in medieval times, I just know I get paid monthly), and my next paycheck wouldn't be enough to buy all the tools I want anyways.

I really wish I had a coat like Morgan's, then I could keep two million things in my pockets and never have to risk losing anything. Everyone should just have cool longcoats. That's the solution to the world's problems.

They're probably really expensive though.

As I'm reluctant to go wandering around alone in a foreign country, I stick close to the inn while searching for something to do. I settle on helping Cynthia care for the pegasi. I'm not particularly comfortable with animals, and Snowflake still doesn't like me all that much, but I'll take it.

"Start at the wing bone, you want to brush in the direction of the feathers." Cynthis instructs. "Don't use too much force. Loose feathers tend to dislodge on their own, so unlike brushing fur you don't need to push into the wing. There's no tangled hair to get rid of."

"Got it." I say, trying to find a grip on the long, wide-toothed comb. Snowflake is giving me an annoyed side-eye, but is keeping his wing out for me to brush. "Does it have to be Snowflake? I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me."

"Do you really want to risk doing something wrong with Mom or Cordelia's pegasus and then have to explain it? I sure don't." Cynthia says.

"Good point." I mutter.

"Besides, Snowflake is a sweetie, aren't you buddy?" Cynthia coos, and scratches the pegasus' head. Snowflake leans into her touch, and his wings tremble slightly in rhythm with her scratches. "Who's my beautiful boy?"

Snowflake huffs, and I swear he rolls his eyes, but he doesn't pull away.

"So don't worry about it." She tells me. "Even if he doesn't like you, he's a good boy."

It takes a few strokes to get used to the oversized comb. Pegasus feathers are as long as my forearm and quite wide as well, hence the large size of the comb. At first I'm brushing too lightly, barely touching the wing, and then too much, causing Snowflake to snort at me and tug his wing away for a moment. The exact pressure needed is in that awkward middleground of technically needing you to use a bit of force, but that amount is so small that it's hard to tell if you're applying any at all.

Once I get it right, Cynthia nods approvingly. "Good. That's perfect. See how some feathers are falling out? You need just enough force to dislodge loose feathers without damaging the others. Snowflake hasn't had much exercise recently so there's not a lot of loose feathers to begin with, so don't worry if it doesn't look like you're removing anything."

It takes a dozen minutes to do both wings, if only because this is my first time doing it (combing the wings is usually a five minute process according to Cynthia). As I do so, a question occurs to me. "How do pegasi keep their feathers in order?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know birds preen their feathers with oil to make sure the little hairs on each feather stay together and provide proper wind resistance so they can fly, how do pegasi do that?"

"Oh! Pegasi use oil too." Cynthia explains. She seems very eager all of a sudden. "They've got special glands along the top of their wings that produce it. They can't spread it on their own that well, so in the wild two pegasi would stand one wing distance away from each other facing in opposite directions with the relevant wing extended, and then slowly walk forward while rubbing their wing against the other's to spread oil. As pegasus riders we play the part of the other pegasus using the comb to spread the oil."

I lift up the comb in curiosity, and can indeed see small beads of liquid on the teeth of the comb. "Fascinating..."

"I know, cool huh?" Cynthia chirps. "I'm not going to let you poke at Snowflake's wings though, I made the mistake of letting Laurent do that. He's lucky Snowflake is so tolerant."

That sounds like something Miriel would do, not Laurent. Guess he has even more of his mother in him than I expected. "No worries there, I wouldn't risk it anyways."

Cynthia slowly walks me through the rest of basic pegasus care. After combing the wings there's brushing the fur, dealing with stains, dealing with the mane and tail, and the hooves… it takes a while, especially because I'm new.

As I continue to work and Cynthia continues to teach, conversation meanders to various topics. I steer clear of any talk about the imminent war, and so does she. There's not even talk about what we're going to do when we get back from the war. We talk purely about the past if we discuss our lives at all.

I end up explaining video games to Cynthia.

"-a whole bunch of them. Just two short of nine hundred, and definitely more to come." I say. "Surprisingly, there's been no pegasus Pokemon yet. There's a bunch of them based on mythical creatures, but no pegasus yet."

"But pegasi are great!" Cynthia protests.

"I know, and they're not exactly unknown mythological creatures either. It's weird." I shrug. "Maybe it's because Nintendo is Japanese? Maybe pegasi aren't known in Japan? Then again, Fire Emblem is also made by Nintendo, so… hell if I know."

"It's a crime!" Cynthia huffs. "How can they not have the _best_ animal?"

"They're delusional I suppose."

"Clearly."

Snowflake huffs in annoyance at this conversation he can barely understand. I'm just grateful he doesn't kick me in the face as I clean his hooves. It's weird to think I'm only doing this because Cynthia is enthusiastic about teaching people pegasus care.

Or maybe she just wants company. After all, every Shepherd seems to be unusually dedicated to whatever pastime they can find for themselves lately, and I know full well it's to avoid dwelling on the war that none of us want to talk about.

Either way, I'm grateful for the distraction. Now I just have to drag Morgan out of our room to actually eat something (she better not have skipped lunch again…) and today will be sort of okay. I'll have successfully avoided thinking about the fact we're getting to the Mila tree in less than a week, and will probably be seeing active combat only a few days after.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter exists. Incidentally, Nathan's dynamic with Nah and Noire (and sort of Inigo) is what I had in mind for him a long time ago before I eventually made a mess of this story. The original plan, before I fucked it up, was to have Nathan be a pseudo parent or older brother for most of the second generation. The advice guy, as Morgan puts it. So now I'm finally getting around to that original plan. Took long enough.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan.

Depending on how you see it, we either arrive at the Mila Tree at the perfect time or the worst time. We're just in time to see a major battle underway, so we're just in time to help… but that also means we're fighting.

"Fucking _finally_! It's been too long since I've stabbed something!" Sully whoops as she pulls out her spear. "Rob, can I-"

"No Sully." Robin cuts her off. "We're going around the side to flank. We're too small a force to rush into the middle of battle, and don't want to get in the way of allied maneuvers. Cordelia, Sumia, Cynthia! I need you up in the air. Point us in the right direction. Everyone else, form up. Nathan-"

I startle to attention. I wasn't expecting to be specifically picked out. I don't have any special combat benefits after all.

"-take the horses and our supplies and find the allied camp. Offer what we supplies we have to help, then find command and alert them that we're here." Robin instructs. "Tell them we're trying to flank around the south." He shoves a hand into his pocket and pulls out a letter. It's got the royal seal on it, which gives me pause. This has to be something important. "Keep this on you as well. If something happens to us, give it to Virion."

"I- uh- yes." I say, my voice cracking as I talk. I take the letter and slide it into my pack. "Got it."

A flurry of activity follows as the Shepherds grab weapons from the cart and fall into formation. Morgan gives me a quick hug and murmured reassurance (which is stupid because _she's_ the one going into battle), and then the rest of the Shepherds are marching away, leaving me to lead four horses and two carts to a camp that I don't know the location of.

Thankfully, I'm on a hill, so I can look down and make a guess at which random mass of people is a camp. Actually, the Mila tree is in the middle of a huge bowl, surrounded on all sides by hills. It sits in the middle of a lake, it's roots serving as bridges across it. Most of the fighting is taking place on the far side of the tree from where I am, in the direction of Valm.

Even from here I can see the pockmarked land on the far side of the tree, most of it behind the current battle line. I have a feeling this isn't the first battle that occurred here.

It feels like it takes forever to make even a little ground. The horses don't like the decline they're walking down because it's causing the cart to roll forward faster than they're moving and hit them in the butt, so I have to lead them on a diagonal to minimize the unwanted rolling (the last thing I need is the horses startling and ruining everything. There's no way I can round up four horses if they get loose), and I keep slowing down to look over at the ever-shrinking backs of the Shepherds to my left.

Even from a distance, the battle is nothing like I've seen before. The small-scale fights I've been in so far just don't compare to an actual military conflict. I can't make out individual people from this distance, and can mostly just see blocks of colour smashing into each other. The Valmese army is red, and the allied army is a mish-mash of violet and beige. Wyverns soar through the sky, engaging in aerial duels far above the range of any archers or mages, and the victor almost always makes a near-vertical dive at enemy lines, smashing through a particular spot before pulling up and returning to the skies. Some are shot down, usually when pulling up, but I'm surprised to see most of the wyverns and their riders actually survive the maneuver to repeat it again and again until an enemy rider comes along to occupy them.

I try and look for pink hair, hoping to pick out Cherche, but the riders are simply too small from this distance.

It takes far too long to move with the horses. I couldn't tell you how long because watches don't exist here, but it takes more than twenty minutes to get a quarter of the way to my destination which is way too long in a situation like this. Aren't horses supposed to be fast?

All the while I'm walking down I can hear indistinct shouting and loud noises travelling over from the other side of the bowl. I can't imagine how deafening it must be in the actual thick of combat.

A small stream flowing down to the lake poses an unexpected obstacle. The horses don't want to cross it, there's a very real chance one of the carts might get stuck, and I don't see a bridge, so I make the decision to follow it down. At worst, I'll have to navigate the roots of the Mila tree. I don't want to make the long trek up the bowl only to find there's still no bridge to cross.

It feels like a waste of time. I want to just leave the horses and run off to find Virion, but I can't abandon the supplies.

I've completely lost track of the Shepherds at this point. They're one of several small blobs of people running to the southern flank of the battle. Every time one of those groups joins the main battle I cross my fingers, hoping it _isn't_ the Shepherds so Morgan can stay safe for another few minutes.

Eventually, _eventually_ , I find a spot where the stream widens and thins until it's just a one-inch sheet of water covering a wide area, and the horses can be convinced to cross. Their hooves splash up water and one of the carts gets caught in the water-soaked rocks.

"Come on Harry." I encourage, feeling supremely foolish for talking to a horse. Horses aren't like Snowflake (who I'm convinced is borderline sentient), they're shy, irrational, _annoying_ animals to try and manage. Then again, I've never been good with animals, and there's a reason Sumia is usually leading the carts.

Harry whineys and pushes forward, with George following suit. The cart lurches behind them, finally coming free of the rocks.

Morgan is probably burning people alive, and I'm talking to a fucking horse.

Something bright catches my eye, and when I turn I can see a pair of manaketes suddenly flying over the battlefield. I can also see about a dozen fireballs get lobbed their way almost instantly, which they dodge well enough, but that's not very reassuring. The enemy is smart enough to target the manaketes.

After an agonizingly long navigating a path the horses are actually willing to walk, I finally come across my first allied camp. The people there are clearly Chon'sinese, and most of them seem to be medics or runners. I can see stretchers of wounded men being carried into a large tent along with a few guards that squint suspiciously at me.

"Hello!" I call, waving a hand at the soldiers. My heart is pounding in my chest. Please understand me. Please let one of them speak English. "Can you understand me?"

Most of the guards clearly don't understand me, but one does. "This is a battlefield! Leave at once!" He tries to shout in heavily-accented, halting, unsure English.

"I know it's a battlefield. I'm from the Shepherds." I say. Then, realizing that a rank-and-file probably doesn't know who the Shepherds are, I add; "I've come to offer what supplies we have to help, from the Prince of Ylisse and the High Deliverer. I also need to speak with Virion or Say'ri, if possible."

I don't know how much I said is understood, but it's enough that the guards don't shoo me away and instead send for someone who can better understand me. Soon enough I'm explaining things to someone who I'm fairly sure is a runner, who is in turn translating for someone who I think is an officer.

"Do you have proof of your allegiance? That you are a part of this group as you claim?" The runner asks, translating a question from the officer.

I panic for a moment, because it's not like the Shepherds have uniforms or pins or something, and then I remember the letter Robin gave me. It has the royal seal on it. Maybe that will work?

The officer is a bit confused when I brandish a letter but don't let him read it, but upon spotting the seal his eyes widen and he quickly arranges for the runner to bring me to Say'ri, and they take the horses and cart off my hands (I have to quickly give instructions about which things are _not_ for them to touch). Soon I'm following the runner through camps of wounded men and people hauling supplies and shouting orders down to the huge roots of the Mila Tree.

The runner leaves me at the base of the tree's staircase before dashing off. Say'ri is up at the top, which seems really inefficient to me because it would take _forever_ for runners to get up and down the staircase to convey orders. Still, I start making the climb. Oddly, there are no runners in sight. I'm alone in climbing the staircase.

Still, it's faster to run up the staircase than move stubborn horses over streams, so I'm at the top within fifteen minutes.

The first voice I hear is reassuring. It's Virion's familiar refined speech, and in English no less. "I must insist you don't participate my lady. If you were to show yourself, the Valmese army would collapse on you in an instant."

"I must agree with Duke Virion." Say'ri's voice says. "It's too much of a risk."

"I do not wish to sit here as our people risk their lives." Tiki's voice replies tersely. "The very least I could do is contribute my strength. I don't have your tactical or strategic sensibilities, I am useless here."

Cresting the last stair, I can see the three of them standing at the far edge of a large, grassy platform. I sort of assumed the top of the Mila Tree was Tiki's room or something, not a huge platform… and a small, temple-like room right in the middle.

"You'd get targeted the instant you transformed!" I shout instead of announcing myself. "Nowi and Nah got fireballs thrown at them as soon as they showed themselves!"

Say'ri startles and almost draws her sword, Tiki straights a bit, and even Virion flinches, though Virion's shock quickly turns to smile. "Ah, Nathan! How fortuitous! I presume that means the Shepherds have arrived?"

"They have." I say, joining the small group. I quickly bow to Tiki and Say'ri before peering over the edge of the tree. "They went to the south flank, and sent me to make you all aware." I point, hoping they can follow my finger. "You can see Nowi and Nah down there, actually."

They probably didn't see the manaketes because they really are barely visible through the leaves unless you know what you're looking for, and they're awkwardly off to the left, forcing you to crane your head if you want to spot them.

"So you can!" Virion says, smiling. "I suppose we should have expected dragons to make an entrance, yes?"

I think he's forcing enthusiasm a little there, but sure, no need to bring down the mood.

Say'ri abruptly grabs something off a small table I didn't even see was here until now- she grabs a small orb- and holds it up to her mouth. She speaks in Chon'sinese, snapping an order, before putting the orb down.

"Won't that be intercepted?" I ask when Say'ri is done speaking. The attack on our ship is still fresh in my mind, after all.

Say'ri's eyes don't leave the battlefield, fixated on a blob of red I eventually identify as an incoming wyvern brigade. "Communication orbs alter words during transmission and remake them on the other end. Even if it was intercepted, they would be nothing but nonsense."

Ah, of course. She's not as dumb as me and Morgan were. There's no way she'd use magical communication if she knew it could be listened to. That was a stupid question on my part.

"Fear not! We are versed in magical communications." Virion reassures, and pats me on the back. "Our metaphorical ship shan't be intercepted."

"Virion…" Tiki says, admonishment clear in her voice.

"Ah, well, perhaps that was insensitive." Virion coughs. "You're all uninjured, I hope?"

"We're fine." I say. I don't expand on it. The cavaliers lost their mounts, everyone lost personal items, and it sucked, but we survived it. Still, I'd rather not dwell. "Incidentally, I don't suppose there's some other inconvenient truth about magic I should be made aware of going forward?"

"Mages can detect magic to an extent. If you're trying to be stealthy, don't use magic." Say'ri says curtly. "May we return to business?"

"Of course, of course." Virion says. He glances at me. "Are you joining us?"

I shake my head. "I'm no tactician, nor a strategist. I'd just be in the way."

I stand back as the three of them go back to observing the battle, occasionally calling down orders, and arguing over a battle map on the table. I'm asked questions once or twice when the Shepherds are involved, but otherwise there's little for me to do.

It takes seven full hours before the battle ends. My main contribution is badgering the three of them to actually eat their goddamn dinner when it arrives, because people don't make good decisions on an empty stomach, and trying to focus for hours at a time without pause isn't a great idea either.

Honestly, dealing with Say'ri is like dealing with Morgan in some respects. She scowls and tries to make excuses that she's the only one who can command the battle and bla bla bla like she doesn't have a few dozen highly competent commanders who can handle things for five fucking minutes while she eats her rice, and Virion is still paying attention to the battle so no, I _won't_ listen to her excuse that she needs to be constantly looking at the battlefield or else something will be missed, and she's going to give herself eye strain like that so she can spare five minutes to rest her eyes and _eat already or I will force-feed her_. Her commanders took a moment to eat, so she can too.

It feels absurd to be having a staring contest with the leader of a country whose army is currently in battle because she won't eat her rice, but that's what I'm doing. I blink first, but it doesn't really matter because Tiki takes my side and, with the pressure of the Voice on my side, Say'ri reluctantly sits down and has her meal.

When she's done, Virion has his, and then after that Tiki has hers. Virion and Tiki don't argue when I tell them to eat. Virion seems quite amused actually. He also looks very, very tired, because by that point I've been up in the tree for four hours, and he's been there longer.

It's a relief when the battle is over and I no longer have to pace around the top of the tree with nothing to do but bother important people until they remember that eating is a thing they have to do.

###

I take my leave from Virion and Say'ri when the battle ends, but before the Shepherds can get anywhere close to the Mila Tree. I give the letter to Virion with instructions to return it to Robin, and then march off to hash out where the Shepherds are going to set up camp with the quartermasters of the armies. It's not too much of a problem. The Shepherds are a small group full of important people, so we're given a spot near the command tents, which means on the edge of the lake around the Mila Tree's roots.

I get our carts over to the site, and send a runner to lead the Shepherds over here. Chrom and Robin will probably head to the Mila Tree, but I don't want everyone else to be wandering around the camps trying to find where they're supposed to be.

I don't bother trying to set up all the tents. I have something more important to do. I pull out the cooking supplies and set about making a very late dinner. The sun is almost gone, and it's going to be fully dark within the hour, but it's not like the Shepherds have eaten during the battle. I make something simple and warm, meaning soup, and I make a _lot_ of it. I make something relatively light, knowing that the Shepherds are going to be exhausted and that something heavy honestly might make them throw up depending on how terrible they already feel.

The Shepherds appear out of the dusk looking like shit. Kjelle is dragging the butt of her spear along the ground, Noire is blinking constantly with red, tired eyes, and Morgan… she looks a mess, as you might expect. Her hair is plastered with sweat, her coat has several new tears in it, and she shuffles along instead of walking.

It's a relief to see her nonetheless. I instantly feel much more calm.

The Shepherds are not chatty. They drop onto the ground with barely a word, and the few that are still functioning to some level go about setting up the tents. I spend my time doing something I've been doing a lot of lately: bothering people until they eat. It's not difficult. Even if everyone is tired, they're also hungry, so it's not hard to push bowls with hot soup into people's hands and expect them to eat.

"Come on Noire." I murmur, poking her in the cheek. "Food first."

"I'm tired." Noire protests. She's glaring (I'm getting a lot of those today) but the usual sudden wrath of her is muted by her exhaustion. "Lemme sleep."

"If you're going to sleep, do it in your tent."

"My tent isn't up."

"Then eat until it is." I say, and hand her the bowl. Noire eyes it, then reluctantly sits up and takes it. "Don't worry. Just a few minutes more and you can rest."

Noire sighs and accepts the spoon I hand to her. I go through more or less the same process with all the other future kids while Cordelia (who looks like shit and even has a bandage around her leg but is somehow still moving) handles most of the first generation before eventually taking a bowl for herself.

I help Laurent and Kellam set up the rest of the tents, and most of the Shepherds gratefully slink into them and almost immediately go to sleep. Lissa stays up for a bit longer, checking over a few of the nastier wounds that were sustained over the battle, but turns in within an hour as well.

Soon it's only me that's awake. I move Morgan, who had fallen asleep against a log while waiting for me (despite my protests, might I add) into our tent and tuck her into her bedroll, and then go back outside and sit around the fire, keeping it going enough to heat the remaining soup still in the pot so Chrom, Robin, Maribelle, and Frederick have something hot to eat when they return.

They return sooner than I was expecting. I thought I would be waiting hours, but they return only a dozen minutes after I move Morgan.

I don't give them any greeting because I figure they don't care for small talk at this point. I simply spoon some soup into bowls and hand it to them. Robin and Frederick give me tired nods, and Chrom and Maribelle each mutter something that sounds like a thank you.

When even those four are done eating and slip into their respective tents, I drink what little remains of the soup myself (because my dinner was almost five hours ago by this point) and douse the cooking fire. I'm the last one to slip into my tent, but I have little doubt I'll be the first awake tomorrow.

###

I wake up to the sound of footsteps and talking, but poking my head out of my tent reveals the cause to be Chon'sinese and Rosannite soldiers, and not any of the Shepherds.

I'm still a bit tired, but I pull myself out of my bedroll and start up the fire again. The morning air is chilly and unpleasant, so I don't want the Shepherds to have to deal with it if they don't have to. As the fire chews on some logs, I go and feed the horses and pegasi (a few of them are still asleep, unsurprisingly. I gently nudge them awake, but don't push too hard if they insist on ignoring me), and then take Morgan's cloak out from her tent along with needle and thread to repair the rips.

I work on her coat for about an hour before the first Shepherd, Laurent, pokes his head out of his tent, and I take that as my cue to start making breakfast. I finish up the rip I was working on, and start fetching pots and meat. Dinner was light to avoid upsetting stressed stomachs, so breakfast is going to be more substantial.

Laurent, altruistic as he is, immediately moves to help. With his help, breakfast doesn't take all that long to make. I'm not sure if it's the smell of food, the noise, or coincidence that the majority of the Shepherds start to stumble out of their tents on sore legs when breakfast is approaching completion. With almost all the Shepherds out, I make the call to just wake everyone else up so they don't miss a warm breakfast.

Predictably, very few people appreciate me sticking my head into their tent and interrupting their rest, but they all come out to eat breakfast rather than stubbornly going back to sleep. No one wants a cold breakfast.

Laurent does most of the serving and I was one of the first to eat, so I spend most of breakfast repairing the rips left in Morgan's coat.

"Nathaaan, I'm cooold."

"Sit closer to the fire or wait, like, two minutes." I say. "I'm almost done."

Morgan does neither of those things. She hugs me from the back and buries her (cold) face in my neck, which is very uncomfortable I might add.

"Morgan, seriously, I can't work like this." I say. I tug my arms free of her grip so I can keep working on the coat. "It won't take that long, I promise."

Her grip tightens even more. "No."

"Morgan…" I sigh.

"A lot of us got hurt and some of us almost died." She mumbles. "So let me, please?"

Well, I can't really say no to that. I finish the rest of the repairs in silence.

The other Shepherds aren't nearly as shaken as Morgan, and it occurs to me that she's quite possibly the only person here (aside from myself) who hasn't been in a war of some sort before. The first generation had the Ylisse-Plegia war, and the second generation lived through Grima's reign. Morgan did neither, or at least doesn't remember.

"Here you go." I say, finishing the last repair. I awkwardly swing it around my back so it settles onto Morgan, and she reluctantly removes her arms from around me to stick them through her sleeves. "Did you eat yet?"

"No…"

"It's good for you."

"I know."

"You should eat."

"I know."

"You also need a bath."

"I- what?" The pitch of her voice rises in confusion.

"You smell." I rephrase. "Morgan, you were fighting for seven hours. Did you think you _wouldn't_ stink of sweat and dirt?"

I can imagine her pout even though I can't see it. "Gee, thanks. Flatterer."

"I aim to please." I say sarcastically. "Seriously though, you might feel better when you aren't covered in dirt."

"Probably." Morgan grumbles. "But you could have been nicer about it."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, my amazing and annoyingly tall girlfriend, might you consider taking a bath for thine own health?"

"That's even worse somehow."

"You're welcome."

"And _annoyingly tall_? Really?"

"You're a head and a half taller than me! It's ridiculous!" I huff.

"A head and a half? I'm only a head taller Nathan."

"No."

"Yes."

"Fine, I'll prove it." I say. I stand up, as does she, and I pull her into a hug to show that my head slots in just under her chin. "See?"

"Yeah, I'm right." She says. Her chin taps the top of my head. "One head."

"That's a head and a half!" I protest, and pull away.

"I have no idea where you're measuring from, but that's _one_ head Nathan." Morgan repeats.

"You measure from forehead to chin!" I say. "One and a half."

Morgan snorts. "Nathan, no one measures height like that."

"I do!"

"Well you're weird then. You're supposed to measure from the top of your head to your chin, not your forehead."

"You're still weirdly tall." I grumble. "You're taller than your parents! That's not supposed to happen."

"Suuure."

"No, really. The best indicator of a kid's potential height is their parents' height." I explain. "You _are_ weirdly tall."

"That's because I'm _amazing_." Morgan says. Her smile is tired, and I realize I've chosen a bad time to slip into our usual routine. She was in her first proper military battle yesterday, after all.

"Anyhow." I say. "Eat and clean yourself up. I'll still be here when you're done after all."

"I don't wanna." Morgan complains. "I _ache_ Nathan."

"You can ache and be clean at the same time." I say. "And I'll give you a massage when you're done."

"Fine…"

"Do you need me to help you?"

"No _Mom_ , I'm capable of washing myself." Morgan huffs. "I said I ached, not that I was paralyzed."

"Just making sure…"

"I'm sort of annoyed that I know you're telling the truth." Morgan says. "That was a prime opportunity for a lewd suggestion and you wasted it!"

"Terrible timing though." I say. "Now go eat before the food gets cold."

"There's never a bad time for a lewd joke."

"I disagree. Now stop stalling and eat." I say, and nudge her towards the table.

"But…"

"But what?" I ask, feeling a bit exasperated by this point.

"But my stomach hurts." Morgan mumbles. "I don't _want_ to eat."

"That's just stress, Morgan." I say. "That happens to me literally all the time."

"It does?"

"Yeah."

"But you never mention it."

"Well yeah, I'm used to it. It would be annoying if I mentioned it every other day when we were at sea or when we were training, so I simply didn't." I shrug. "Either way, trust me when I say that you should still eat something."

"Okay…."

Now that I don't have to bother Morgan into taking care of herself, I go bother the other future kids who are being stubborn. Severa is griping about losing beauty sleep and how she isn't all that hungry, so I start with her.

After I've successfully annoyed all the future kids into eating breakfast (with some help from Laurent) and Morgan leaves to bathe, I locate Robin and Chrom.

"Robin, Chrom." I say upon finding the two. They're just finishing up their meal. I ignore the pointed look Maribelle gives me, probably because I'm ignoring their titles. "Are we remaining here for the day?"

"We are." Chrom nods. "For a week at least. The Mila tree is acting as a staging ground for allied forces, and all our troops are yet to arrive."

"Alright, I'm going to bother a runner to send a request to the other quartermasters for supplies then. We're running low on a bunch of stuff after yesterday, seeing as we volunteered our supplies to help." I say. "Is there anything specific we need right this minute?"

"Not that I can think of." Robin says.

"Okay." I nod. "I'm off then. If Morgan asks before I'm back, tell her I shouldn't be more than half an hour."

"Got it."

"Oh, and if you're going to see Say'ri today… make sure she's actually eaten something. She was being stubborn yesterday."

"So I heard." Chrom smiles.

"We'd thank you _not_ to try and cause a diplomatic incident next time." Maribelle interjects.

"Then Say'ri better eat her food next time." I say stubbornly.

Maribelle clearly doesn't approve, but Chrom does. Robin just has an eyebrow raised and offers no comment.

With that established, I search for a runner as quickly as possible. I search for a Rosannite one, hoping that there won't be a language barrier, but alas the Rosannites speak French and not English so I have to find someone bilingual again. The Rosannite runner seems confused about this weird Ylissian guy asking for supplies, but he listens and runs off to deliver my message when I'm done.

That was all I was planning to do before getting back to Morgan, but as I'm returning I notice something suspicious. There's a soldier watching our camp- that's not suspicious in itself, admittedly- but not in the usual way. I mean… the Shepherds are a bit of a curiosity. We're an unusual sight. It's expected that people might stop and look, but I think I can be justifiably suspicious of someone standing near a cart with papers in hand pretending to take inventory while clearly watching our camp out of the corner of their eyes… especially because I can tell the cart only has hay bales and shouldn't take more than five seconds to count.

They haven't noticed me, because I'm behind them. I debate internally if I should confront them, or alert Robin first.

I err on the side of caution and (quietly) tell Robin. The tactician nods, making a point of _not_ looking in the direction I indicated so as to not give away that we've noticed. "It could just be a curious soldier, Nathan."

"Or it could be a spy. Excellus knows to look out for us."

"That too." Robin admits after a moment of thought. "But let's not assume the worst."

"If you assume the worst you're never disappointed."

"Maybe, but what can we do? We can hardly interrogate a random soldier not in our army." Robin reminds me.

A good point. I hadn't considered that.

"We'll keep an eye out, and maybe organize guard shifts for the night, but for now don't do anything." Robin says with finality.

"Alright."

"Good. Now go keep Morgan occupied. I need her when I'm done talking with the allied council, but before then, don't let her dwell over yesterday's tactics."

Well that's an odd request. There's a story there. I'm going to bet Morgan messed something up. "Can do."

"And Nathan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for the food."

Uh, okay? "No problem."

I make my way over to where Morgan is impatiently waiting next to the fire, and as soon as she sees me she whines "Nathaaan! You said you'd be here when I got back, and you _weren't_! I had to wait a whole thirty seconds!"

"Tragic." I smile. "I torture you so."

"Just terrible." Morgan agrees. She still looks tired, but at least she's not dirty anymore. "I hope you weren't planning on going back on the massage offer too!"

"Of course not. I'm not _that_ cruel." I hum.

"Good." Morgan says. "Because I'm still tired and a massage might just put me to sleep, which honestly sounds great right now."

"I hope you can fall asleep with all the noise."

"You know I can Nathan. _You're_ the one who usually has trouble sleeping, not me."

True. She can sleep through just about everything, including nearly rolling into a fire. Hmm… I haven't used that joke in a while, I should use it again at some point.

Morgan does not end up falling asleep, but that's fine with me. I'm always happy for her company. Keeping her distracted is also quite easy. Privilege of being the boyfriend I suppose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could write a battle… or I could write about Nathan annoying someone powerful into eating their dinner, and then playing the cook for a bit. You'll actually hear about the battle a bit more next chapter. You're getting a Morgan one next time.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan.

"Give it to me!"

"No."

"Nathan!" I growl, trying to pull my tactics notebook from his hands. "Gimmie!"

"No." He repeats, holding it over his head like I'm not taller than him and couldn't reach it if I really wanted to. We're both sitting down. I could just stand up. "Robin told me not to."

"You'd listen to your girlfriend's father over said girlfriend? Rude! Horrible even!"

"Considering how often you pull the 'girlfriend' card, it's really lost its gravitas." He says. "You can have your notebook when Robin gets back. I'm supposed to be distracting you."

"If you want to distract me, telling me that you're distracting me is a terrible way to do it."

"Well yeah, but I hate lying, so…"

I grumble under my breath and stop trying to reach for the notebook. It's not like I was trying very hard to get it in the first place. I just got all the stress out of my muscles (courtesy of Nathan) and I don't really need to tense them back up going over what I did wrong yesterday just yet. "Fine."

It's easy to say I won't think about yesterday, but actually doing that is hard. It's not a simple thing to forget that I sent Kellam, alone, to handle two great knights. I mean, sure everyone else was busy, but there had to have been something I could have done, someone I could have pulled away for just a second, or-

"Pay attention to me." Nathan says, nudging my cheek with his nose.

"That's my line."

"I know, but I'm using it." He says, and kisses my ear. "Because you're thinking too much."

It's very hard to brood when someone is nibbling on your ear, so paying attention to Nathan is an easy 'choice' to make.

The fact that I used to do this for him back when he was still freaking out about being stuck in a different dimension is not lost upon me. That was so long ago… and by that I mean it was a few years. Gods, it's only been a few years.

"Morgan…"

"Sorry, don't worry, I wasn't thinking about _that_." I say, and lean into his nuzzles. "I was just thinking that this is the total opposite of what we usually do."

"What do you mean? This is normal." Nathan murmurs. "I've been watching after you for months."

That's true. Ever since we got on the boat and I started to obsess over tactics, he's been trying to make sure I don't forget to eat and all that. Still… "The normal I remember is you singing as we walk along the road, and me sitting in your lap around a campfire."

"Yeah." He murmurs. "Miss that, do you?"

"Just a little. It's better than being at war. I've been in one battle, and I hate it."

"Well good. If you liked war, I'd be worried." Nathan hums.

"It's hard to believe just a few months ago I was in Ylisstol, pushing you up against a wall somewhere in the castle."

His face goes a bit red. "Uh, yeah, well… that was a good 'normal' as well."

"Yeah, the next normal for me was you not being there though. That sucked. I mean, I got used to it, and it probably wasn't all that bad, but I'm going to say it sucked anyways so I sound extra faithful."

"You mean extra clingy." Nathan teases, as if I don't know he was relieved that I still wanted him after he woke up.

"Same thing." I say dismissively. "And then you came back, and you were smaller than me, and cute. Sooo cute."

Nathan sighs deeply, if only to cover up that I'm embarrassing him.

"I'll admit, I kinda liked carrying you around for the first few weeks." I tease.

"I'm surprised your arms didn't get tired honestly." Nathan says.

"They did." I say. "But it wasn't too bad. You were pretty light, and I'd kept up my training well enough, so I never ended up with aches."

"Huh."

"But that makes the next normal. The castle." I say. "I guess that didn't really last all that long though, did it?"

"Yeah." How long did that last? Was it a month? Two? A lot less than the rest. "We can barely call it normal actually."

"It feels normal though, doesn't it?"

"It feels like how things _should_ be." I say. "None of me needing to spend hours focusing on tactics, none of you dragging me out of my room to train or getting me food. I should be doing tactics stuff in the day, and you making games, and then I could come home we'd both have free time to do stuff, and then on the weekends we would have a free day to watch a play or have a day on the town or something."

"That sounds nice." Nathan agrees, smiling softly at me.

I'll never admit it out loud, but I sometimes feel like I don't know what I should be doing whenever Nathan is _sappy_ like that, even if it's just a smile. Our whole relationship is based on constant jokes and banter after all. When we have honest discussions it's alway serious, but in a casual scenario I don't know if I should joke, respond in kind, or something else entirely. "Doesn't it? It's a plan for after the war at least."

"I'll hold you to it."

" _Please_ do."

The conversation eventually shifts away from the war (I think Nathan remembered that he's supposed to be distracting me), and this time I let it happen without a fight.

###

When Father fetches me, I follow him silently. Entering the command, I can see maps, figurines, and fresh paper and ink ready on both sides of a large table, along with two large lanterns with fresh candles in each. Clearly Father is prepared for this to take a long time, and considering what we're going to be doing, I'd be surprised if it didn't.

We'll see what happens first: the candles run out, or Nathan and/or Chrom and/or Frederick come to kick us out of the tent to our beds.

"You brought your notes?" Father says.

"Of course." I say, brandishing my notebook. I would have liked to have been able to look through it beforehand, but you already know what happened there.

"Good. Did you have a chance to write anything down since yesterday?"

"No. Nathan wouldn't let me."

"Good." Father says. "So let's go over that now."

Father adjusts the figurines on the table, making very clear battle lines that I recognize at a glance. The little group of blue figures, us shepherds, are coming around the side of two lines of red and green fighters respectively.

That's how the battle started. We came around the side of the main battle lines and hit from the side. We stood at a distance at first, not wanting to get stuck in the thick of the battle. That plan didn't last long though. We didn't count on a squad of Valmese paladins having the same idea to flank as us, but that's for later.

"Broad strokes, what are the most important things that happened yesterday?" Father asks.

"We got outflanked."

"Broader." Father prompts. "Not specific instances."

I frown and think. "We got surprised way too often. Even when we were on the outsides of the battle with a good view, we missed vital information all the time."

"Good." Father nods. "What else?"

"We got thrashed by any concentrated attack." I say. "We could deal with infantry, but basically nothing else if they were in large enough groups."

"True." Father says. "What else?"

"We really shouldn't be in big battles."

"Yes." Father agrees, and finally sits in his seat and gestures for me to do the same. "That was our first and biggest mistake."

I take my seat and whip out my quill and ink the tip. It's going to be one of _those_ analyses, isn't it? The one where we tear apart every little action one side makes… that side being ours this time. "Where do we start then?"

"First, I should clarify something." Father says. He points at me. "You didn't do anything particularly wrong."

"Father, I love you, but that's bullshit."

Father blinks. It occurs to me that 'bullshit' isn't actually a term you hear thrown around all that much… because it's an Earth thing. Goddammit Nathan.

No one says 'goddammit' either. It would be 'gods damn it' or something like that.

"I'm serious Morgan." Father insists. "I know you think you messed up, and you did, but that's what it means to be a tactician in war. We have to learn like any other profession, and learning means making mistakes… and our job just so happens to involve life or death circumstances."

"That makes my mistakes all the more inexcusable."

"Morgan, no one can avoid mistakes." Father says.

That doesn't sit right with me. "But-"

Father cuts me off before I can say more. "You can ask nearly anyone else. Ask Nathan, ask Chrom, ask the person who hates you the most in the Shepherds. They'll say the same thing as me."

I hate that I know he's telling the truth. Nathan and Chrom would absolutely agree with Father, because both of them are far too forgiving and understanding, but I could even see the theoretical person who hates me the most in the Shepherds (Kjelle maybe? I have no idea really. I can't think of a Shepherd who properly _hates_ me) agreeing because for better or for worse all the Shepherds tend to be good, nice people when you really get down to it. Even Tharja maybe.

"I nearly got Kellam killed."

"You did." Father agrees.

"I nearly got _all_ of us killed."

"You did." He agrees again. "And guess what?"

"What?"

"I've done the exact same many times." Father says. "Remind me to tell you about how I nearly got Lissa killed multiple times before I learned how to position healers in skirmishes when you don't can't leave soldiers behind to protect them, or how I unintentionally sent Sumia on a sucide mission as soon as the war started before I learned how to properly use pegasus knights."

"You're kidding."

"I _wish_ I was." Father grimaces. "You can ask Lissa. She has a permanent scar and muscle damage on the back of her neck because of my mistakes."

I'm definitely asking about that later.

"So again, yes, you made mistakes and almost got people killed. Yes, it's entirely your fault and your responsibility. Yes, you should make sure it never happens again. But yes, you shouldn't, can't, dwell on it, or it will ruin your life." Father says, emphasizing every instance of the word 'yes' with a firm, consistent inflection and small nod of his head. "Tear the situation apart and analyze it down to the smallest detail- that's what we're going to be doing now- but you cannot dwell. This is war, we're responsible for lives, and we're unfortunately human. Mistakes will inevitably happen and you can't _afford_ to dwell on them, as callous as that may sound."

I listen silently, one of my hands grabbing my other at the wrist at the edge of the table, my quill held tightly in that other hand.

"I'll leave it at that, though." Father says. "I doubt you fully believe me, and I know enough that you won't fully work through it before mulling it over for a few hours, Nathan optional but probably involved, knowing both of you."

Yeah, that's accurate.

"But for now, look at the battle intellectually and professionally. We have a job to do." Father says. "Alright?"

"Alright." I say. I can do professional, even if I don't agree with some of what he's just said. Figuring out what I should think and feel is what I do in my tent, Nathan optional but probably involved, as Father so accurately put it. "Where do we start?"

"Let's start with those broad strokes you mentioned, because you missed a few." Father says. He scribbles down a heading in his notes, and I do the same. "Our poor use of terrain, for one, and issues with controlling airspace."

I nod, quickly writing those down.

I could go over every little detail we discussed, but it doesn't really matter. The afternoon and evening is a blur of conversation, writing, moving figurines, and arguments over where exactly we should put Frederick in relation to Maribelle and how those archers to the north factored into it, also keeping in mind the wyvern knight circling above us, and-

You get the point.

Eventually someone- Chrom first, who encourages us to sleep but doesn't command, and then Nathan, who is more firm- kicks us out of the command tent and back to our beds. We're only halfway through the battle, and not even halfway through a complete analysis, but some weirdos don't think spending a full night discussing tactics is a good way to spend our time.

I know, crazy.

###

Nathan nudges me awake at breakfast, ignoring my grumblings, so I can eat food while it's warm rather than lukewarm from me sleeping in.

"Come on dear." Nathan murmurs, lugging me into a sitting position in my bedroll. He throws my shirt and pants at me, and carefully shakes dirt out of my coat from where I threw it on the floor last night. "Get up."

I grumble and gripe, and slowly get into my clothes. Nathan all but drags my tired self outside to sit on a log while he grabs bowls of soup for us (it's just about the only thing Sully can make without poisoning people). Father is sitting on another log with his own bowl, looking more tired than me, and with no one sitting next to him.

It occurs, somewhere in the back of my mind, that Father's constant work can't be doing any favors for him trying to get along with Mother. Mother won't be waking Father up in the morning so he can eat warm food like Nathan does for me,because I 'got' Nathan well before I devolved into this constant study. Father is alone… or maybe Chrom wakes him up. That seems like something Chrom would do. Chrom's nice. He's never too busy for his friends, somehow.

Magic. It has to be magic.

"Are you going to be busy today?" Nathan asks. He finishes his food before me, and now has a brush in his hand (the one he got me a looong time ago as a joke, back when we were travelling Ferox) and is trying to detangle my hair. It's completely unnecessary, I could just use a spell, but I let him do it anyways. Even when he tugs my hair a bit painfully (by accident), I'm not about to reject the gesture.

"Dunno, we didn't talk about it." I say. Warm soup pools in my stomach, waking me up more than the cold morning air or the walk from tent to log. "Probably. We didn't half finish our work."

"Did you have dinner last night?" He asks.

"Uh… I don't remember." I squint. "Maybe? Probably not?"

"Morgan…" He says softly, in admonishment.

"I knooow." I mutter. Please stop sounding so disappointed, you're making me feel bad. "Sorry."

"Take better care of yourself."

"I'll try."

"At least remember to eat, Morgan."

"I will." Well fuck, I've made a promise now. I'll have to figure out how to remember dinner.

"Good."

Nathan has to leave soon after breakfast to deal with chores. He kisses my forehead, murmurs something sweet that I only half hear, and moves off to do his work.

With my own soup done soon after, I move over to Father and drop onto the log next to him. He nods to me, and slowly sips at his half-full bowl of cool soup.

"Are we going to work more today?" I ask after a few seconds of silence.

"I don't think Chrom will let us." Father says. "I think we need to have a more in-depth meeting with the allied leaders anyhow. We talked about the battle yesterday, we need to talk about current and future movements today."

"Ah."

"You should come." He says, to my surprise. "If I'm Chrom's second-in-command, you're basically a top general in terms of importance. If neither me nor him nor Maribelle can lead, it falls to you and Lucina. As strange as it might be considering both of you are still kids, you _are_ the next level in the chain of command."

"Father, I'm twenty."

"Gods you're twenty…" Father groans, rubbing his face. "I feel so old."

"You're not even thirty."

"And yet I have a twenty year old daughter." He says. "A daughter who is nearly as talented as me."

"Well-"

"My daughter is nearly _married_ , oh gods…" He says, and tilts back his head to stare at the sky. "You're going to get married before me."

"I'm pretty sure that will just be a formality." I say. Seeing as how me and Nathan's lives are so tightly entangled already, I have a feeling marriage really will be just a ceremony and nothing more when it eventually happens. "I can wait until you woo Mother if you want to feel less old."

Father makes a face. "You saying that makes it even worse."

He abruptly gulps down the rest of his soup and stands up, and I follow him up.

"The meeting should be soon. I'm sure Virion will send someone, but I'd prefer to arrive early to a meeting for once." He says while brushing off his coat. "Are you coming?"

"Yes." I say instantly. Then, I ask: "How long will it take?"

"However long it needs to."

"Okay. I promised Nathan I'd actually have dinner today though, so fair warning."

Father's face sports a wry smile. "You'll be in good company with Chrom, Tiki, and Cherche then. Come on."

We exit the camp at a leisurely stroll. My eyes are quickly drawn to all the people who quickly turn their heads away from us or the camp.

"We have spectators." I note quietly.

"We do." Father says. "Are you about to warn me about spies too?"

"No…" I say slowly. "But I was considering it."

"Nathan thought someone was watching us more unusually than the others." Father says in a tone that sounds… not quite _mocking_ , but exasperated. "I know he hasn't been with us long, but people watching us happens all the time. We're notable individuals. That's just our life."

"All the more reason to suspect spies." I say. "We're important, so of _course_ we'd be spied upon."

Father rolls his eyes. "You two are exactly the same sometimes."

"Excellus is basically a spy Father." I remind him. "You really think he wouldn't spy on us? We know he extorted Yen'fay's loyalty in other timelines, you think he wouldn't get information from us? Poison us? Kidnap someone?"

Father purses his lips. "Maybe? I'll admit, I'm not well versed in the espionage side of things. I think I'll need to find someone who knows more."

"Do so quickly then, or I can." I offer. "I'm sure Gaius can tell me something, and I can badger Virion and Say'ri into teaching me something."

"I'll do it." Father says quickly, and I smirk. Sometimes I forget I'm a menace in most people's eyes.

"I promise not to antagonize them."

" _I'll_ do it." Father repeats insistently.

I hold up my hands innocently. "Alright."

We pick our way through the roots of the Mila tree to the long staircase, passing by various important looking big tents with flags on them, important people dressed in unnecessarily ostentatious outfits for a battlefield (thinks the girl in an unnecessarily fancy gold-accented longcoat). I mostly hear Chon'sinese, though there is a bit of Roseanne's language (Roseannite? Roseannese? Roseannian? Nathan calls it "French', but that's hardly applicable here, just like Arcanean being called "English" isn't applicable except in the context of Nathan specifically) to be heard.

Something completely arbitrary crosses my mind as I hear Chon'sinese spoken around me. A little tidbit of information that suddenly seems relevant. "Where's Yen'fay?"

"Defending the northern entrance to Chon'sin." Father says. I take a moment to remember the map of Valentia, and vaguely recall a spot at the very north of the continent where the river- lake?- squeezes to not quite let Chon'sin and Valm touch.

"Is there a bridge there?" I ask.

"No. But the river is just narrow enough that you could _make_ a bridge across, or rafts or crude boats, in a relatively small amount of time." Father says. "I don't have all the details on the situation though."

Hmm, interesting. "Isn't Yen'fay the leader of Chon'sin?"

"He is." Robin nods.

"Shouldn't he be here instead?"

"Probably." Robin nods. "But, he and Say'ri received a certain letter warning that Say'ri would be used against him, later corroborated by Virion, and they took this as a warning about a potential kidnapping, and so decided Say'ri would take command of the position more heavily fortified and with numerous powerful allies, rather than the relatively less dangerous but therefore less defended location up north."

"So basically, the bulk of the army is here, so Say'ri is here?"

"I'm fairly sure it has more to do with Tiki and Virion being here, as well as us Shepherds." Robin says. "People trustworthy to Tiki, verified by Naga, identified by Nathan's letter, rather than loyal but potentially exploitable or buyable soldiers and generals."

Interesting. I'm not sure if Nathan would be relieved or terrified that his letter had this much influence. Probably both, knowing him. Actually, probably more the latter than the former. He _really_ doesn't like having a lot of responsibility on his shoulders.

The walk up the Mila Tree is unnecessarily long. Like, really, why couldn't we do this at the roots? Is it just that important for us to look all impressive on the top of a huge tree for the sake of… who? Ourselves? The Soldiers? Naga? Whatever. Holding this meeting, _any_ meeting, at the top of the Mila Tree is a stupid idea.

I wish I was a manakete so I could just fly to the top. I bet Tiki just flies to the top, if she ever comes down in the first place.

Hmm… I wonder if she'll give me a ride down after the meeting.

The top of the tree is surprisingly barren, and unusually flat. There's a small building in the middle of the tree with a single room that looks like a shrine where I can see a bed and shelf through an open door. A large, round table and numerous chairs have been set up on the far side of the tree. Beyond that, there's nothing but flat wood, leaves, and sunlight.

There's also a lady with green hair, a red dress, and pointy ears sitting at the table with a cup of tea in hand. That has to be Tiki. I'll be honest, I expected an important religious figure to dress more modestly, but I'm not going to complain. A nice lady in a nice dress? Yes please!

I think Father can hear my thoughts, since he makes sure to call out to Tiki before I can. "Lady Tiki!"

"Greetings, Robin." The lady says, calmly setting down the tea. Her eyes quickly find mind. "And you… are Morgan, yes?"

"That's me! The soon-to-be best tactician ever!" I say, and give an unnecessarily fancy bow. "I'm glad to hear my reputation precedes me! As it should!"

Tiki's mouth turns up in a smile. "I can see what you meant about her being colorful, Robin."

Father sighs deeply. "I'll count myself lucky if she behaves the entire time."

"Why Father, it almost sounds like you don't have any faith in me!" I gasp, putting a sarcastically offended hand to my breast. "I always behave!"

Father fixes me with a flat, disbelieving look.

"Okay, fine, I'm _capable_ of behaving." I amend.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Father mutters under his breath.

"Can I at least sit next to the hot dragon lady?" I say, not bothering to keep my voice down.

Father throws his hands up in the air and Tiki laughs. It's Tiki who answers first. "You're more than welcome to, so long as Say'ri does not object."

"Yaaay!"

I can _feel_ Father rolling his eyes at me, and I relish in it.

I don't have much time to talk with Tiki before other people start to arrive. Say'ri is first, and she spares me no more than a glance before sitting on the opposite side as Tiki. I take that as approval. Chrom and Maribelle are next. Maribelle raises an eyebrow at me being here, but doesn't comment otherwise. Chrom, on the other hand, says: "Ah, we should really bring Lucina next time, shouldn't we? She might have some valuable insight with her knowledge."

"Perhaps." Father says. "I brought Morgan because she's next in command, knows strategy and tactics nearly as well as me, and can bring up any future knowledge that might be relevant."

So I'm here because it's assumed I know most of what Nathan knows better than everyone else here? Rude. I mean, Father's not wrong, but rude. He could have just brought Nathan… except Nathan would hate being here. The pressure would absolutely give him acute anxiety.

Nevermind, I was a good choice.

"The council is already half Shepherds, I suppose an even more overwhelming majority is an irrelevant point then." Say'ri remarks dryly.

"You know we mean no ill. If you don't want her here, she'll leave." Father soothes. "Besides, we represent a very small faction in this war. Consider us advisors. You and Virion are the ones with land and lives on the line, and the final say for major actions. Us Shepherds simply happen to have the benefit of various forms of future knowledge."

"You're more than welcome to bring in your own generals, Say'ri." Chrom says. "We've suggested as much before."

"And I've informed you before that I am not keen to have my authority undermined." Say'ri retorts firmly. "My generals can listen to _my_ words after _I_ have made a decision."

What an interesting thing to say. Are the generals untrustworthy? Are there political machinations at play? Is Say'ri not seen as a strong leader for some reason? Is it simply ego on Say'ri's part? Very curious.

"As they very well should, being the bright, dazzling woman you are!" Virion says as he sweeps over to the table. Somehow none of us heard the wyvern landing across the tree from us. Lucky bastard got a ride up here. I presume the woman with the salmon-colored hair talking to the wyvern is Cherche. Virion bows with unnecessary flare (really it's an unnecessary bow in the first place) to us, and addresses Say'ri again. "You look dazzling as always, Princess Say'ri."

"Duke Virion." Say'ri says with a flat, unimpressed tone. "You're late."

"Only fashionably so!" Virion says, and brandishes a nice bottle of wine from behind his back. "This is not for now, of course. Work must be done. Later, however, I'd be more than happy to treat you all to this fine Roseannite wine to, ah, relax after such _stressful_ discussions."

"If you must." Say'ri says, her voice dry.

Tiki watches this all with a small, but genuine smile. On impulse, I lean in and whisper. "Is the wine any good?"

"As good as rotten berry juice can be." She whispers back. "I've never enjoyed the taste, but after years spent in a position such as mine I've gotten quite used to it."

As quiet as we might have been, there are very few people in the room and few other noises, so it's unsurprising that we were heard.

"Lady Morgan!" Virion cries. He leans over the table to take my hand, and kisses it in the perfect picture of ridiculous nobility while wearing a wide smile. For a moment I feel like I'm at a party on business for Duke Crius again, except Virion's smile is much more genuine than people I usually meet at parties. "It has been too long! How have you been? You've grown into quite the beauty I see! Lucky for your father that you already have a partner or else he'd have many suitors to fend off!"

"I'm quite capable of stabbing- I mean _fending off_ suitors myself." I say. "A shame none of them would meet my very lofty standards even if I didn't have Nathan."

"Oh? And what standards would those be?"

"Playing chess."

It's a stupid answer, because of course that's not one of my standards, but it makes Virion bark a laugh. "A limited pool indeed! I'm glad to hear I would be one of the only viable suitors in the world!"

"Duke Virion." Cherche says. Her voice is calm and she has a smile on her face, but I can see exasperation in her eyes and the tension in her arms. "Perhaps it would be best to go to business and not flirt with the daughter of another council member?"

"Perhaps, but it would be far less pleasant." Virion sighs. He clasps one of my hands between his. "Truly though, it would please me to play a game of chess with you. As much as it has intrigued other Roseannite nobles, I think you'll be far more my skill level than they, and it is too fascinating a game to go unplayed for boredom."

I forgot Nathan gave him a chess set. I have a vague feeling the game is going to be as popular here as it was in his world. "It's a date." I say with a wink, causing Cherche and Father to sigh and Virion to brighten with a smile.

"And now…" Tiki says quietly, getting everyone's attention. "To business, if you please."

"Yes, of course." Virion says, immediately dropping his jovial attitude. He pulls out a handful of papers from a pocket in his vest. "I have the latest reports from my scouts, and they bring worrying news."

"And I the latest from my brother." Say'ri says, brandishing papers of her own. "I'm afraid my news bodes ill as well."

They're not wrong. Say'ri reports a massing of Valmese troops at the northern crossing, and Virion a suspicious lack of them in the surrounding area, especially considering the number of troops we faced a mere two days ago.

"That's not the only problem, however." Virion says. "Our scouts also report Risen activity."

"Risen? In Valentia?" Chrom asks. "I thought they didn't appear here?"

"They do, though in much fewer numbers than in Archanea." Virion says. "That is exactly why my scouts brought it to my attention: Risen numbers are unusually high, more so than we'd expect from merely the occasional dead soldier rising again. Less than one in four hundred of the dead usually become Risen in Valentia, yet the scouts report entire battalions of them occupying where the Valmese camps once were."

"Someone intentionally summoned them." Father says. "We know it's possible, Aversa did so before."

"Indeed, I recall the moment quite vividly." Virion nods. "So we must reckon with a skilled sorcerer on Valm's side."

"Not just any sorcerer. To summon that many Risen would require many sorcerers, or a single man of absurd power." Robin says.

"Excellus?" I offer, though my voice is unsure. I don't know Excellus' exact level of power, so this really is a question more than an assertion.

"Excellus is known for being a competent mage, though he has never _overtly_ dabbled in dark magic." Say'ri says. "However I would not put it past such a snake to know such spells."

"I do not think we can come to a definite answer as to who may be responsible as of yet. Instead, we must simply keep in mind that Valm is now capable of such things." Virion says.

"Agreed." Say'ri says. "The movement of their troops is worrisome. My brother is expecting an attack, and I'm sure you expect that Valm's army has moved to the west to threaten Roseanne."

"Yet a two front war seems quite risky for Valm." Virion muses. "Bad enough to have one front up north and another at the Mila tree, attacking into Roseanne would push that second front even further south and leave an easy opening for our army."

"Not with the Risen in our way." Robin says. "And not if Valm could conceivably shut off our supply line if we crossed the narrow path from the Mila tree to Valm, either with their own troops or more Risen."

"Like all the stockpiled dead surrounding us right now." Tiki says quietly. "I suspect, if we are to attempt a march, we will find an army of Risen at our backs."

"We do not know that for certain." Chrom says, but even he sounds like he doesn't believe what he's saying.

"We must assume it is certain." Say'ri says firmly. "For if we are not prepared for the eventuality, we may be punished quite harshly."

Everyone nods in agreement. I do the same, but frown through it. "Couldn't we just burn the bodies or something to stop Risen from rising? You can't summon a Risen without a corpse, after all."

"We could." Say'ri nods. "If we want our army to revolt against us for disrespecting our fallen comrades."

Ah, I should have known. Culture always gets in the way.

Gods I sound like Nathan sometimes. I'm inheriting his fixation on culture, religion, and random social issues. Save me.

"Otherwise, that would be a solid idea." Say'ri admits. "Conceivably we might be able to justify burning Valmeses bodies, though that will do little to endear us to the Valmese populace, which might fuel hatred against us and bolster recruitment to the Valmese army should word spread."

Well that sucks. Nothing can be simple apparently.

The conversation effectively stalls from there as various ideas are thrown around and none are agreed upon. Can the Risen be cleared safely? Who would do it? To what end? Where should the army go? Should it split? How quickly can the army be _ready_ to go? Are we leaving the Mila Tree undefended?

There's only so much I can offer because I don't have all the information I need to make informed decisions. I don't know about all of Chon'sin and Roseanne's troop movements for one, and I don't have an extremely detailed mental map of the terrain and exact details of key locations in Valentia.

So instead I take notes. No one bats an eye when I pull out my notebook and start writing things down. Cherche is doing much the same, actually. If nothing else, I can keep the minutes of the meeting in some loose sense for future reference, as well as notes about key locations everyone else discusses. If I don't have the knowledge myself, I should be recording what I hear from others.

For the rest of the meeting I say very little, and listen a lot. The only time I speak is when my- well Nathan's- future knowledge is called upon, which is rare as we've thoroughly deviated from what the game would expect by this point.

Mostly I'm struck by the fact that I'm useless here. All I've done so far is ask questions that everyone else already knew the answer to. I'm a genius… compared to everyone I usually hang around. Not so much when dealing with the rulers and Father.

I don't like being the stupid one.

Discussion continues well into the afternoon, and still no decision has been made. The fundamental issue is that Say'ri wants to go on the offensive, to the northwest, while Virion wants to go southwest to move the army to protect the entrance to Roseanne, and none of us have a good idea on how to deal with so many potential Risen at once.

For all their time clearing out Ylisse and time at war, the Shepherds never actually had to deal with a Risen hoard so large, and as such neither Father nor Chrom nor Maribelle have any firm idea on how the Risen should be dealt with. They have ideas and suggestions, but nothing they _know_ will work.

Eventually the sun sinks low as I write. I'm prodded by the feeling that I should be doing something, and I recall quickly enough. As soon as there's a lull in the conversation I push out my seat and- when everyone looks at me questioningly- I cross my arms say "It's almost sundown, we either have dinner now or don't have any. I don't know about all of you, but I'll have Nathan breathing down my neck if I don't, so _I'm_ getting dinner one way or another."

Out of everything I could have said, I don't think that's what they were expecting. Father raises an eyebrow, Maribelle sighs, and Chrom and Tiki smile. Say'ri looks exasperated, and Virion, after a moment, seems amused.

Cherche doesn't react. She does, however, set down her quill, stand up, and say "Well, I'm glad I wasn't the one who had to say it this time. Thankfully _someone_ else has sense."

Judging by Virion's nervous laugh, I'd say he's done the same as me and Father and forgotten a few meals here and there… or Cherche was making a general jab at his supposed lack of sense.

Say'ri looks like she wants to protest, but Tiki rises just as Say'ri is opening her mouth and Say'ri promptly snaps her jaw shut.

"A small recess then." Tiki says. "To eat and clear our minds. I shall find us some food."

"Absolutely not!" Say'ri protests. "My lady, it is beneath you to act as an errand girl!"

Tiki and Say'ri devolve into the most polite argument I've seen in a while. Everyone else ignores them, and Cherche quickly announces that _she_ , on account of having a wyvern, will order some food and return swiftly.

With the meeting temporarily suspended, people part into their respective groups (with Virion gravitating towards Chrom and Maribelle, seeing as Cherche is gone). Father spends a moment writing on a parchment in front of him, future questions he wants to ask to be exact, before turning to me.

"Did you learn a lot?" Father asks.

"I learned that armies are complicated and logistics are a bitch." I say bluntly.

A tired smile crawls onto Father's face. "You're not wrong."

"Also, I felt like I couldn't really say anything." I add. "The questions I did ask seemed… inane."

"Simple maybe, I wouldn't quite say inane." Father says. "But that's part of why I wanted you here, so you could learn what makes for a relevant question in situations like this, and just how impossible it can seem to make a good decision, much less one everyone will agree on."

"Because we both know either Say'ri or Virion is going to be unhappy no matter what we decide." I say.

Father nods.

I take a long moment to thoughtfully compose my words before saying the most profound thing I can at this moment: "This sucks."

"It really does." Father agrees. "I don't suppose you have any thoughts you didn't voice? You were unusually quiet after the first few hours."

"I still think we should burn the bodies."

" _Aside_ from burning the bodies."

"Well unless we can find the sorcerers ahead of time, there's no other clean solution for the Risen I can think of right now." I say. "It's not as simple as just leaving our heavily armored troops in the back or front either, because there would probably be Risen mages."

Father nods along with what I say, silently encouraging me to keep talking.

"And I don't think it's going to be possible to find those sorcerers. They could be sitting in the field of Risen and we have no easy way to spot or get to them." I say, waving my arm vaguely to the west. "They just need to wait to see a _whole army_ start to move before casting their spell, it's not like we can deceive them… can we? Could we use illusions?"

"If you don't mind devoting several dozen mage for at least two full days to cover an entire army moving." Father says.

Well, there goes that idea. "How did Valm get out so quickly? They were there one day and gone the next."

"Better training." Father says simply. "It's also a lot easier for them when they all speak the same language."

Yeah, good point. "Aside from that… I really don't know. There was too much talk about locations I don't know, big strategic stuff, and arguing about objectives. It's hard to make a plan without knowing your objective."

By objective, of course, I mean whether I should be thinking of a plan to attack through the Risen or how to cover our retreat. Either way means dealing with the Risen, but in vastly different ways.

"There's no simple way of dealing with all those Risen without a… I dunno, a nuke." I say, knowing full well that Father has no idea what a nuke is. "I get the feeling we have to deal with the sorcerers in one way or another if we want to avoid Risen rising under our feet. We need to kill them or trick them or _something_."

"But how?" Father asks softly, rhetorically. "And how do we know they're even there, and that the Risen aren't just a psychological tactic to make us _think_ they could raise Risen behind us when we march when they don't actually have that much range on their spell?"

I resist the urge to wring my hands. "I don't know."

"None of us do, and that's the issue." Father says. "And unfortunately, if there's one issue we need solved right now, it's the matter of the sorcerers."

If they're even still around and not gone with the rest of the Valmese army. "Ugh…"

He pats me on the shoulder. "Welcome to what my life was like during the entire Plegian war."

Cherche soon returns to tell us that a meal will be sent up shortly. Virion decides this is a fine time to break out the wine, despite Say'ri's protests.

"Come now, we've been discussing for _hours_." Virion argues. "Do you truly think we'll make more progress in the one hour of daylight, if that, we have left?"

Say'ri clearly wants to say "yes", but knows full well that Virion is saying this meeting won't go past sunset, so she instead laces her fingers together on the table and remains silent. She does accept a glass of wine when passed to her.

I hesitate to accept mine. I haven't drank alcohol before, though that's largely because Nathan refuses to drink and I just copied him.

 _One_ glass, I decide, and no more. If I like it, maybe I'll try some more some other time, but I have no desire to get drunk right now.

The wine tastes… strange. There's simultaneously a lot of flavor, and yet barely any. I can taste a dozen different unique tastes, but they're all muted and hidden behind each other. Everything about this drink is subtle, and honestly it's more annoying than satisfying. It's like ordering steak and only getting to smell it instead of actually eat it.

Still, it's not awful. Not nearly as bad as I would have expected for rotten berry juice.

Dinner comes and goes without event. I talk at Father for some of it, and with Virion for the rest. Virion pointedly keeps the conversation off the war and our future plans. I get the impression he's talked _way_ too much strategy over the last few months or years or however long he's been at this and is happy to talk Chess, or literally anything that isn't war, for a change.

I leave the tree (Tiki _does_ give me a ride down, thank Naga. I can see why she's a holy figure, she saved me a fifteen minute walk) and make my way back to the our camp with Father.

I also know what I'm doing over the next few days. I'm finding out how to deal with the Risen.

Somehow.


End file.
